THE 

RED  SYMBOL 

JOHN  IRONSIDE 


1  1  9 


THE  RED   SYMBOL 


1  heard  him  mutter 
in  French:  "  The  symbol! 
Then  it  in  she  !  " 
FRONTISPIECE.     See  p.  16 


THE 


RED    SYMBOL 

BY 

JOHN    IRONSIDE 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 

F.   C.   YOHN 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1910 


Copyright,  1909,  1910, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved. 
Published,  April,  1910 


THE   UNIVERSITY   PRESS,    CAMBRIDGE,   U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  MYSTERIOUS  FOREIGNER     .     .     .     ..  1 

II.  THE  SAVAGE  CLUB  DINNER      .     .     .     «  9 

III.  THE  BLOOD-STAINED  PORTRAIT  ....  17 

IV.  THE  RIVER  STEPS 26 

V.  THE  MYSTERY  THICKENS  . 33 

VI.  " MURDER  MOST  FOUL" 41 

VII.  A  RED-HAIRED  WOMAN  ! 48 

VIII.  A  TIMELY  WARNING *  55 

IX.  NOT  AT  BERLIN 62 

X.  DISQUIETING  NEWS 68 

XI.  «LA  MORT  ou  LA  VIE!" 74 

XII.  THE  WRECKED  TRAIN 82 

XIII.  THE  GRAND  DUKE  LORIS 89 

XIV.  A  CRY  FOR  HELP 96 

XV.  AN  UNPLEASANT  EXPERIENCE   ....  103 

XVI.  UNDER  SURVEILLANCE 110 

XVII.  THE  DROSHKY  DRIVER 115 

XVIII.  THROUGH  THE  STORM 122 

XIX.  NIGHT  IN  THE  FOREST     .     »    .     .     .     .  128 

XX.  THE  TRIBUNAL 133 

XXI.  A  FORLORN  HOPE.     .     .  /;    *    .     .     .  139 

XXII.  THE  PRISON  HOUSE 145 

XXIII.  FREEMAN  EXPLAINS 152 

XXIV.  BACK  TO  ENGLAND  158 


2136458 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXV.    SOUTH  BOURNE'S  SUSPICIONS   .     .     .     .  164 

XXVI.   WHAT  JIM  CAYLEY  KNEW  ....  172 

XXVII.    AT  THE  POLICE  COURT 179 

XXVIII.    WITH  MARY  AT  MORWEN  ....  186 

XXIX.    LIGHT  ON  THE  PAST 192 

XXX.    A  BYGONE  TRAGEDY 198 

XXXI.     MlSHKA    TURNS    UP 204 

XXXII.    BACK  TO  RUSSIA  ONCE  MORE       .     .  211 

XXXIII.  THE  ROAD  TO  ZOSTROV 217 

XXXIV.  THE  OLD  JEW 223 

XXXV.    A  BAFFLING  INTERVIEW      ....  229 

XXXVI.    STILL  ON  THE  ROAD 235 

XXXVII.   THE  PRISONER  OF  ZOSTROV      .     .     .  241 

XXXVIII.   THE  GAME  BEGINS 247 

XXXIX.   THE  FLIGHT  FROM  ZOSTROV     .     .     .  254 

XL.   A  STRICKEN  TOWN 260 

XLI.   LOVE  OR  COMRADESHIP?      ....  268 

XLII.   THE  DESERTED  HUNTING  LODGE  .     .  274 

XLIII.   THE  WOMAN  FROM  SIBERIA     .     .     .  281 

XLIV.    AT  VASSILITZI'S 287 

XLV.   THE  CAMPAIGN  AT  WARSAW  .     .     .  294 

XLVI.   THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END       .     .  301 

XLVII.   THE  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  SQUARE     .     .  308 

XLVIII.    THE  GRAND  DUCHESS  PASSES  .     .     .  315 

XLIX.   THE  END  OF  AN  ACT 322 

L.   ENGLAND  ONCE  MORE 329 

LI.   THE  REAL  ANNE 336 

LII.   THE  WHOLE  TRUTH  344 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


I  heard  him  mutter  in  French :   "  The  symbol ! 

Then  it  is  she  ! " Frontispiece 

The  rooms  were  in  great  disorder,  and  had  been 

subjected  to  an  exhaustive  search      ....  Page  51 

His  stern  face,  seen  in  the  light  of  the  blazing 

wreckage,  was  ghastly "       87 

In  that  instant  I  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  white 

face "     102 

Then,  in  a  flash,  I  knew  him "     228 

"  My  God,  how  they  hate  me  !"  I  heard  Loris  say 

softly "259 

"  I  knew  thou  wouldst  come,"  she  said   .     .     .     .     "     268 
Some  one  comes  behind  my  chair "     354 


THE  RED  SYMBOL 


CHAPTER  I 

THE    MYSTERIOUS   FOREIGNER 

HELLO  !  Yes  —  I  'm  Maurice  Wynn.  Who  are 
you?" 

"Harding.  I  've  been  ringing  you  up  at  intervals  for 
hours.  Carson  's  ill,  and  you  're  to  relieve  him.  Come 
round  for  instructions  to-night.  Lord  Southbourne 
will  give  them  you  himself.  Eh?  Yes,  Whitehall 
Gardens.  Ten-thirty,  then.  Right  you  are." 

I  replaced  the  receiver,  and  started  hustling  into  my 
dress  clothes,  thinking  rapidly  the  while. 

For  the  first  time  in  the  course  of  ten  years'  expe- 
rience as  a  special  correspondent,  I  was  dismayed  at 
the  prospect  of  starting  off  at  a  moment's  notice  —  to 
St.  Petersburg,  in  this  instance. 

To-day  was  Saturday,  and  if  I  were  to  go  by  the 
quickest  route  —  the  Nord  express  —  I  should  have 
three  days'  grace,  but  the  delay  at  this  end  would  not 
compensate  for  the  few  hours  saved  on  the  journey. 
No,  doubtless  Southbourne  would  expect  me  to  get 
off  to-morrow  or  Monday  morning  at  latest.  He  was  — 
and  is  —  the  smartest  newspaper  man  in  England. 

Well,  I  still  had  four  hours  before  I  was  due  at  White- 
hall Gardens ;  and  I  must  make  the  most  of  them.  At 
least  I  should  have  a  few  minutes  alone  with  Anne  Pen- 


2  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

dennis,  on  our  way  to  the  dinner  at  the  Hotel  Cecil,  — 
the  Savage  Club  "ladies"  dinner,  where  she  and  my 
cousin  Mary  would  be  guests  of  Jim  Cayley,  Mary's 
husband. 

Anne  had  promised  to  let  me  escort  her,  —  the 
Cayley's  brougham  was  a  small  one,  in  which  three 
were  emphatically  a  crowd,  —  and  the  drive  from 
Chelsea  to  the  Strand,  in  a  hansom,  would  provide  me 
with  the  opportunity  I  had  been  wanting  for  days  past, 
of  putting  my  fate  to  the  test,  and  asking  her  to  be  my 
wife. 

I  had  thought  to  find  that  opportunity  to-day,  at  the 
river  picnic  Mary  had  arranged;  but  all  my  attempts 
to  secure  even  a  few  minutes  alone  with  Anne  had 
failed;  though  whether  she  evaded  me  by  accident  or 
design  I  could  not  determine,  any  more  than  I  could 
tell  if  she  loved  me.  Sometimes,  when  she  was  kind, 
my  hopes  rose  high,  to  fall  below  zero  next  minute. 

"Steer  clear  of  her,  my  boy,"  Jim  Cayley  had  said 
to  me  weeks  ago,  when  Anne  first  came  to  stay  with 
Mary.  "  She  's  as  capricious  as  she  's  imperious,  and 
a  coquette  to  her  finger-tips.  A  girl  with  hair  and  eyes 
like  that  could  n't  be  anything  else." 

I  resented  the  words  hotly  at  the  time,  and  he  re- 
tracted them,  with  a  promptitude  and  good  humor 
that  disarmed  me.  Jim  was  a  man  with  whom  it  was 
impossible  to  quarrel.  Still,  I  guessed  he  had  not 
changed  his  opinion  of  his  wife's  guest,  though  he  ap- 
peared on  excellent  terms  with  her. 

As  for  Mary,  she  was  different.  She  loved  Anne,  — 
they  had  been  fast  friends  ever  since  they  were  school- 
girls together  at  Neuilly,  —  and  if  she  did  not  fully 
understand  her,  at  least  she  believed  that  her  coquetry, 


THE    MYSTERIOUS    FOREIGNER          3 

her  capriciousness,  were  merely  superficial,  like  the 
hard,  glittering  quartz  that  enshrines  and  protects  the 
pure  gold,  —  and  has  to  be  shattered  before  the  gold 
can  be  won. 

Mary,  I  knew,  wished  me  well,  though  she  was  far 
too  wise  a  little  woman  to  attempt  any  interference. 

Yes,  I  would  end  my  suspense  to-night,  I  decided,  as 
I  wrestled  with  a  refractory  tie. 

Ting  .  .  .  ting  .  .  .  tr-r-r-ing !  Two  short  rings 
and  a  long  one.  Not  the  telephone  this  time,  but  the 
electric  bell  at  the  outer  door  of  my  bachelor  flat. 

Who  on  earth  could  that  be?  Well,  he'd  have  to 
wait. 

As  I  flung  the  tie  aside  and  seized  another,  I  heard 
a  queer  scratching  noise  outside,  stealthy  but  distinct. 
I  paused  and  listened,  then  crossed  swiftly  and  silently 
to  the  open  door  of  the  bedroom.  Some  one  had  in- 
serted a  key  in  the  Yale  lock  of  the  outer  door,  and  was 
vainly  endeavoring  to  turn  it. 

I  flung  the  door  open  and  confronted  an  extraordinary 
figure,  —  an  old  man,  a  foreigner  evidently,  of  a  type 
more  frequently  encountered  in  the  East  End  than 
Westminster. 

"Well,  my  friend,  what  are  you  up  to  ?"  I  demanded. 

The  man  recoiled,  bending  his  body  and  spreading 
his  claw-like  hands  in  a  servile  obeisance,  quaint  and 
not  ungraceful ;  while  he  quavered  out  what  was  seem- 
ingly an  explanation  or  apology  in  some  jargon  that 
was  quite  unintelligible  to  me,  though  I  can  speak  most 
European  languages.  I  judged  it  to  be  some  Russian 
patois. 

I  caught  one  word,  a  name  that  I  knew,  and  inter- 
rupted his  flow  of  eloquence. 


4  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"You  want  Mr.  Cassavetti?"  I  asked  in  Russian. 
"Well,  his  rooms  are  on  the  next  floor." 

I  pointed  upwards  as  I  spoke,  and  the  miserable 
looking  old  creature  understood  the  gesture  at  least, 
for,  renewing  his  apologetic  protestations,  he  began 
to  shuffle  along  the  landing,  supporting  himself  by  the 
hand-rail. 

I  knew  nay  neighbor  Cassavetti  fairly  well.  He  was 
supposed  to  be  a  press-man,  correspondent  to  half  a 
dozen  Continental  papers,  and  gave  himself  out  as  a 
Greek,  but  I  had  a  notion  that  Russian  refugee  was 
nearer  the  mark,  though  hitherto  I  had  never  seen  any 
suspicious  characters  hanging  around  his  place. 

But  if  this  picturesque  stranger  was  n't  a  Russian 
Jew,  I  never  saw  one.  He  certainly  was  no  burglar  or 
sneak-thief,  or  he  would  have  bolted  when  I  opened 
the  door.  The  key  with  which  he  had  attempted  to 
gain  ingress  to  my  flat  was  doubtless  a  pass-key  to 
Cassavetti's  rooms.  He  seemed  a  queer  person  to  be 
in  possession  of  such  a  thing,  but  that  was  Cassavetti's 
affair,  and  not  mine. 

"Here,  you  'd  better  have  your  key,"  I  called,  jerk- 
ing it  out  of  my  lock.  It  was  an  ordinary  Yale  key, 
with  a  bit  of  string  tied  to  it,  and  a  fragment  of  dirty 
red  stuff  attached  to  that. 

The  stranger  had  paused,  and  was  clinging  to  the 
rail,  making  a  queer  gasping  sound;  and  now,  as  I 
spoke,  he  suddenly  collapsed  in  a  heap,  his  dishevelled 
gray  head  resting  against  the  balustrade. 

I  guessed  I  'd  scared  him  pretty  badly,  and  as  I 
looked  down  at  him  I  thought  for  a  moment  he  was 
dead. 

I  went  up  the  stairs,  and  rang  Cassavetti's  bell. 


THE   MYSTERIOUS   FOREIGNER          5 

There  was  no  answer,  and  I  tried  the  key.  It  fitted 
right  enough,  but  the  rooms  were  empty. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  Common  humanity  forbade 
me  to  leave  the  poor  wretch  lying  there ;  and  to  summon 
the  housekeeper  from  the  basement  meant  traversing 
eight  flights  of  stairs,  for  the  block  was  an  old-fashioned 
one,  and  there  was  no  elevator.  Besides,  I  reckoned 
that  Cassavetti  would  prefer  not  to  have  the  house- 
keeper interfere  with  his  queer  visitor. 

I  ran  back,  got  some  whiskey  and  a  bowl  of  water, 
and  started  to  give  first  aid  to  my  patient. 

I  saw  at  once  what  was  wrong,  —  sheer  starvation, 
nothing  less.  I  tore  open  the  ragged  shirt,  and  stared 
aghast  at  the  sight  that  met  my  eyes.  The  emaciated 
chest  was  seamed  and  knotted  with  curious  scars.  I  had 
seen  similar  scars  before,  and  knew  there  was  but  one 
weapon  in  the  world  —  the  knout  —  capable  of  making 
them.  The  man  was  a  Russian  then,  and  had  been 
grievously  handled;  some  time  back  as  I  judged,  for 
the  scars  were  old. 

I  dashed  water  on  his  face  and  breast,  and  poured 
some  of  the  whiskey  down  his  throat.  He  gasped, 
gurgled,  opened  his  eyes  and  stared  at  me.  He  looked 
like  a  touzled  old  vulture  that  has  been  badly  scared. 

"Buck  up,  daddy,"  I  said  cheerfully,  forgetting  he 
would  n't  understand  me.  I  helped  him  to  his  feet, 
and  felt  in  my  trouser  pocket  for  a  coin.  It  was  food 
he  wanted,  but  I  had  none  to  give  him,  except  some 
crackers,  and  I  had  wasted  enough  tune  over  him 
already.  If  I  did  n't  get  a  hustle  on,  I  should  be  late 
for  my  appointment  with  Anne. 

He  clutched  at  the  half-crown,  and  bent  his  trem- 
bling old  body  again,  invoking,  as  I  opined,  a  string  of 


6  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

blessings  on  my  unworthy  head.  Something  slipped 
from  among  his  garments  and  fell  with  a  tinkle  at  my 
feet.  I  stooped  to  pick  it  up  and  saw  it  was  an  oval 
piece  of  tin,  in  shape  and  size  like  an  old-fashioned 
miniature,  containing  a  portrait.  He  had  evidently 
been  wearing  it  round  his  neck,  amulet  fashion,  for  a 
thin  red  cord  dangled  from  it,  that  I  had  probably 
snapped  in  my  haste. 

He  reached  for  it  with  a  quick  cry,  but  I  held  on  to 
it,  for  I  recognized  the  face  instantly. 

It  was  a  photograph  of  Anne  Pendennis  —  badly 
printed,  as  if  by  an  amateur  —  but  an  excellent  likeness. 

Underneath  were  scrawled  in  red  ink  the  initials 
"A.  P."  and  two  or  three  words  that  I  could  not  de- 
cipher, together  with  a  curious  hieroglyphic,  that 
looked  tike  a  tiny  five-petalled  flower,  drawn  and  filled 
in  with  the  red  ink. 

How  on  earth  did  this  forlorn  old  alien  have  Anne's 
portrait  in  his  possession  ? 

He  was  cute  enough  to  read  my  expression,  for  he 
clutched  my  arm,  and,  pointing  to  the  portrait,  began 
speaking  earnestly,  not  in  the  patois,  but  in  low  Russian. 

My  Russian  is  poor  enough,  but  his  was  execrable. 
Still,  I  gathered  that  he  knew  "the  gracious  lady,"  and 
had  come  a  long  way  in  search  of  her.  There  was 
something  I  could  not  grasp,  some  allusion  to  danger 
that  threatened  Anne,  for  each  tune  he  used  the  word 
he  pointed  at  the  portrait  with  agonized  emphasis. 

His  excitement  was  so  pitiable,  and  seemed  so  genuine, 
that  I  determined  to  get  right  to  the  root  of  the  mystery 
if  possible. 

I  seized  his  arm,  marched  him  into  my  flat,  and  sat 
him  in  a  chair,  emptying  the  tin  of  crackers  before  him, 


THE   MYSTERIOUS   FOREIGNER  7 

and  bidding  him  eat.  He  started  crunching  the  crackers 
with  avidity,  eyeing  me  furtively  all  the  tune  as  I  stood 
at  the  telephone. 

I  must  let  Anne  know  at  once  that  I  was  detained. 

I  could  not  get  on  to  the  Cayley's  number,  of  course. 
Things  always  happen  that  way !  Well,  I  would  have 
to  explain  my  conduct  later. 

But  I  failed  to  elicit  much  by  the  cross-examination 
to  which  I  subjected  my  man.  For  one  thing,  neither 
of  us  understood  half  that  the  other  said. 

I  told  him  I  knew  his  "gracious  lady";  and  he 
grovelled  on  the  floor,  clawing  at  my  shoes  with  his 
skinny  hands. 

I  asked  him  who  he  was  and  where  he  came  from, 
but  could  make  nothing  of  his  replies.  He  seemed  in 
mortal  fear  of  some  "Selinski"  —  or  a  name  that 
sounded  like  that;  and  I  did  discover  one  point,  that 
by  Selinski  he  meant  Cassavetti.  When  he  found  he 
had  given  that  much  away,  he  was  so  scared  that  I 
thought  he  was  going  to  collapse  again,  as  he  did  on 
the  staircase. 

And  yet  he  had  been  entrusted  with  a  pass-key  to 
Cassavetti's  rooms! 

Only  two  items  seemed  perfectly  clear.  That  his 
"gracious  lady"  was  in  danger,  —  I  put  that  question 
to  him  tune  after  time,  and  his  answer  never  varied,  — 
and  that  he  had  come  to  warn  her,  to  save  her  if  possible. 

I  could  not  ascertain  the  nature  of  the  danger.  When 
I  asked  him  he  simply  shook  his  head,  and  appeared 
more  scared  than  ever;  but  I  gathered  that  he  would 
be  able  to  tell  "the  gracious  lady,"  and  that  she  would 
understand,  if  he  could  only  have  speech  with  her. 
But  when  I  pressed  him  on  this  idea  of  danger  he  did 


8  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

a  curious  thing.  He  picked  up  Cassavetti's  key,  flat- 
tened the  bit  of  red  stuff  on  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and 
held  it  towards  me,  pointing  at  it  as  if  to  indicate  that 
here  was  the  clue  that  he  dare  not  give  in  words. 

I  looked  at  the  thing  with  interest.  A  tawdry  artifi- 
cial flower,  with  five  petals,  and  in  a  flash  I  understood 
that  the  hieroglyphic  on  the  portrait  represented  the 
same  thing,  —  a  red  geranium.  But  what  did  they 
mean,  anyhow,  and  what  connection  was  there  between 
them  ?  I  could  not  imagine. 

Finally  I  made  him  understand  —  or  I  thought  I  did 
—  that  he  must  come  to  me  next  day,  in  the  morning ; 
and  meanwhile  I  would  try  and  arrange  that  he  should 
meet  his  "gracious  lady." 

He  grovelled  again,  and  shuffled  off,  turning  at  every 
few  steps  to  make  a  genuflection. 

I  half  expected  him  to  go  up  the  stairs  to  Cassavetti's 
rooms,  but  he  did  not.  He  went  down.  I  followed  two 
minutes  later,  but  saw  nothing  of  him,  either  on  the 
staircase  or  the  street.  He  had  vanished  as  suddenly 
and  mysteriously  as  he  had  appeared. 

I  whistled  for  a  hansom,  and,  as  the  cab  turned  up 
Whitehall,  Big  Ben  chimed  a  quarter  to  eight. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   SAVAGE   CLUB   DINNEB 

DINNER  was  served  by  the  time  I  reached  the 
Cecil,  and,  as  I  entered  the  salon,  and  made  my 
way  towards  the  table  where  our  seats  were,  I  saw  that 
my  fears  were  realized.  Anne  was  angry,  and  would  not 
lightly  forgive  me  for  what  she  evidently  considered 
an  all  but  unpardonable  breach  of  good  manners. 

I  know  Mary  had  arranged  that  Anne  and  I  should 
sit  together,  but  now  the  chair  reserved  for  me  was 
on  Mary's  left.  Her  husband  sat  at  her  right,  and 
next  him  was  Anne,  deep  in  conversation  with  her 
further  neighbor,  who,  as  I  recognized  with  a  queer 
feeling  of  apprehension,  was  none  other  than  Cassavetti 
himself ! 

Mary  greeted  me  with  a  comical  expression  of  dismay 
on  her  pretty  little  face. 

"I'm  sorry,  Maurice,"  she  whispered.  "Anne 
would  sit  there.  She  's  very  angry.  Where  have  you 
been,  and  why  did  n't  you  telephone  ?  We  gave  you  ten 
minutes'  grace,  and  then  came  on,  all  together.  It 
was  n't  what  you  might  call  lively,  for  Jim  had  to  sit 
bodkin  between  us,  and  Anne  never  spoke  a  word  the 
whole  way !" 

Jim  said  nothing,  but  looked  up  from  his  soup  and 
favored  me  with  a  grin  and  a  wink.  He  evidently 
imagined  the  situation  to  be  funny.  I  did  not. 


10  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"I  '11  explain  later,  Mary,"  I  said,  and  moved  to  the 
back  of  Anne's  chair. 

"Will  you  forgive  me,  Miss  Pendennis?"  I  said 
humbly.  "I  was  detained  at  the  last  moment  by  an 
accident.  I  rang  you  up,  but  failed  to  get  an  answer.'* 

She  turned  her  head  and  looked  up  at  me,  with  a 
charming  smile,  in  which  I  thought  I  detected  a  trace 
of  contrition  for  her  hasty  condemnation  of  me. 

"An  accident  ?  You  are  hurt  ?  "  she  asked  impulsively. 

"No,  it  happened  to  some  one  else;  and  it  con- 
cerns you,  Cassavetti,"  I  continued,  addressing  him, 
for,  as  I  confessed  that  I  was  unhurt,  Anne's  momentary 
flash  of  compunction  passed,  and  her  perverse  mood 
reasserted  itself.  With  a  slight  shrug  of  her  white 
shoulders  she  resumed  her  dinner,  and  though  she  must 
have  heard  what  I  told  Cassavetti,  she  betrayed  no 
sign  of  interest. 

In  as  few  words  as  possible  I  related  the  circum- 
stances, suppressing  only  any  mention  of  the  discovery 
of  Anne's  portrait  in  the  alien's  possession,  and  our 
subsequent  interview  in  my  rooms.  I  remembered 
the  man's  terror  of  Cassavetti  —  or  Selinski  —  as  he 
had  called  him,  and  his  evident  conviction  that  he  was 
in  some  way  connected  with  the  danger  that  threatened 
"the  gracious  lady,"  who,  alas,  seemed  determined 
to  be  anything  but  gracious  to  me  on  this  unlucky 
evening. 

Cassavetti  listened  impassively.  I  watched  his  dark 
face  intently,  but  could  learn  nothing  from  it,  not  even 
whether  he  had  expected  the  man,  or  recognized  him 
from  my  description. 

"Without  doubt  one  of  my  old  pensioners,"  he  said 
unconcernedly.  "Strange  that  I  should  have  missed 


THE  SAVAGE  CLUB  DINNER  11 

him,  for  I  was  in  my  rooms  before  seven,  and  only  left 
them  to  come  on  here.  Accept  my  regrets,  my  friend, 
for  the  trouble  he  occasioned  you,  and  my  thanks  for 
your  kindness  to  him." 

The  words  and  the  tone  were  courteous  enough,  and 
yet  they  roused  in  me  a  sudden  fierce  feeling  of  antag- 
onism against  this  man,  whom  I  had  hitherto  regarded 
as  an  interesting  and  pleasant  acquaintance.  For  one 
thing,  I  saw  that  Anne  had  been  listening  to  the  brief 
colloquy,  and  had  grasped  the  full  significance  of  his 
remark  as  to  the  time  when  he  returned  to  his  rooms. 
The  small  head,  with  its  gleaming  crown  of  chestnut 
hair,  was  elevated  with  a  proud  little  movement, 
palpable  enough  to  my  jealous  and  troubled  eyes.  I 
could  not  see  her  face,  but  I  knew  well  that  her  eyes 
flashed  stormy  lightnings  at  that  moment.  Wonderful 
hazel  eyes  they  were,  changing  with  every  mood,  now 
dark  and  sombre  as  a  starless  night,  now  light  and 
limpid  as  a  Highland  burn,  laughing  in  the  sunshine. 

She  imagined  that  the  excuse  I  had  made  was  in- 
valid ;  for  if,  as  Cassavetti  inferred,  his  —  and  my  — 
mysterious  visitor  had  been  off  the  premises  before 
seven  o'clock,  I  ought  still  to  have  been  able  to  keep 
my  appointment  with  her.  Well,  I  would  have  to  un- 
deceive her  later ! 

"Don't  look  so  solemn,  Maurice,"  Mary  said,  as  I 
seated  myself  beside  her.  "Tell  me  all  about  every- 
thing, right  now." 

I  repeated  what  I  had  already  told  Cassavetti. 

"Well,  I  call  that  real  interesting!"  she  declared. 
"If  you'd  left  that  poor  old  creature  on  the  stairs, 
you  'd  never  have  forgiven  yourself,  Maurice.  It  sounds 
like  a  piece  out  of  a  story,  does  n't  it,  Jim  ?" 


12  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"You  're  right,  my  dear!  A  fairy  story,"  chuckled 
Jim,  facetiously.  "You  think  so,  anyhow,  eh,  Anne?" 

Thus  directly  appealed  to,  she  had  to  turn  to  him, 
and  I  heard  him  explaining  his  question,  which  she 
affected  not  to  understand;  heard  also  her  answer, 
given  with  icy  sweetness,  and  without  even  a  glance  in 
my  direction. 

"Oh,  no,  I  am  sure  Mr.  Wynn  is  not  capable  of 
inventing  such  an  excuse." 

Thereupon  she  resumed  her  conversation  with 
Cassavetti.  They  were  speaking  in  French,  and 
appeared  to  be  getting  on  astonishingly  well  together. 

That  dinner  seemed  interminable,  though  I  dare 
say  every  other  person  in  the  room  except  my  unlucky 
self  —  and  perhaps  Mary,  who  is  the  most  sympathetic 
little  soul  hi  the  world  —  enjoyed  it  immensely. 

I  told  her  of  my  forthcoming  interview  with  South- 
bourne,  and  the  probability  that  I  would  have  to  leave 
London  within  forty-eight  hours.  She  imparted  the 
news  to  Jim  in  a  voice  that  must  have  reached  Anne's 
ears  distinctly ;  but  she  made  no  sign. 

Was  she  going  to  continue  my  punishment  right 
through  the  evening  ?  It  looked  like  it.  If  I  could  only 
have  speech  with  her  for  one  minute  I  would  win  her 
forgiveness ! 

My  opportunity  came  at  last,  when,  after  the  toast 
of  "the  King,"  chairs  were  pushed  back  and  people 
formed  themselves  into  groups. 

A  pretty  woman  at  the  next  table  —  how  I  blessed 
her  in  my  heart !  —  summoned  Cassavetti  to  her  side, 
and  I  boldly  took  the  place  he  vacated. 

Anne  flashed  a  smile  at  me,  —  a  real  smile  this 
tune,  —  and  said  demurely : 


THE  SAVAGE   CLUB  DINNER  13 

"So  you're  not  going  to  sulk  all  the  evening  — 
Maurice?" 

This  was  carrying  war  into  the  opposite  camp  with  a 
vengeance ;  but  that  was  Anne's  way. 

I  expect  Jim  Cayley  set  me  down  as  a  poor-spirited 
skunk,  for  showing  no  resentment;  but  I  certainly 
felt  none  now.  Anne  was  not  a  girl  whom  one  could 
judge  by  ordinary  standards.  Besides,  I  loved  her; 
and  she  knew  well  that  one  smile,  one  gracious  word, 
would  compensate  for  all  past  capricious  unkindness. 
Yes,  she  must  have  known  that;  too  well,  perhaps, 
just  then. 

"I  told  the  truth  just  now,  though  not  all  of  it," 
I  said,  in  a  rapid  undertone. 

"I  knew  you  were  keeping  something  back,"  she 
declared  merrily.  "And  now  you  have  taken  your 
punishment,  sir,  you  may  give  your  full  explanation." 

"I  can't  here;  I  must  see  you  alone.  It  is  some- 
thing very  serious,  —  something  that  concerns  you 
nearly." 

"Me  !    But  what  about  your  mysterious  old  man  ?" 

"It  concerns  him,  too  —  both  of  you  — " 

Even  as  I  spoke,  once  more  the  incredibility  of  any 
connection  between  this  glorious  creature  and  that 
poor,  starved,  half-demented  wreck  of  humanity, 
struck  me  afresh. 

"But  I  can't  tell  you  now,  as  I  said,  and  —  hush  — 
don't  let  him  hear;  and  beware  of  him,  I  implore  you. 
No,  it 's  not  mere  jealousy,  —  though  I  can't  explain, 
here."  I  had  indicated  Cassavetti  with  a  scarcely 
perceptible  gesture,  for  I  knew  that,  though  he  was 
still  talking  to  the  pretty  woman  in  black,  he  was 
furtively  watching  us. 


14  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

A  curious  expression  crossed  Anne's  mobile  face  as 
she  glanced  across  at  him,  from  under  her  long  lashes. 

But  her  next  words,  spoken  aloud,  had  no  reference 
to  my  warning. 

"Is  it  true  that  you  are  leaving  town  at  once ? " 

"Yes.     I  may  come  to  see  you  to-morrow?" 

"Come  as  early  as  you  like  —  in  reason." 

That  was  all,  for  Cassavetti  rejoined  us,  dragging  up 
a  chair  in  place  of  the  one  I  had  appropriated. 

"So  you  and  Mr.  Wynn  are  neighbors,"  she  said 
gaily.  "Though  he  never  told  me  so." 

"Doubtless  he  considered  me  too  insignificant," 
replied  Cassavetti,  suavely  enough,  though  I  felt,  rather 
than  saw,  that  he  eyed  me  malignantly. 

"Oh,  you  are  not  in  the  least  insignificant,  though 
you  are  exasperatingly  —  how  shall  I  put  it  ?  —  opinion- 
ated," she  retorted,  and  turned  to  me.  "Mr.  Cassa- 
vetti has  accused  me  of  being  a  Russian." 

"Not  accused  —  complimented,"  he  interpolated, 
with  a  deprecatory  bow. 

"You  see?"  Anne  appealed  to  me  in  the  same  light 
tone,  but  our  eyes  met  in  a  significant  glance,  and  I  knew 
that  she  had  understood  my  warning,  perhaps  far  better 
than  I  did  myself;  for  after  all  I  had  been  guided  by 
instinct  rather  than  knowledge  when  I  uttered  it. 

"I  have  told  him  that  I  have  never  been  in  Russia," 
she  continued,  "and  he  is  rude  enough  to  disbelieve 
a  lady!" 

"I  protest  —  and  apologize  also,"  asserted  Cassavetti, 
"though  you  are  smoking  a  Russian  cigarette." 

"As  two-thirds  of  the  women  here  are  doing.  The 
others  are  non-smoking  frumps,"  she  laughed. 

"But  you  smoke  them  with  such  a  singular  grace." 


THE  SAVAGE   CLUB  DINNER  15 

The  words  and  tone  were  courtier-like,  but  their 
inference  was  unmistakable.  I  could  have  killed  him 
for  it !  A  swift  glance  from  Anne  commanded  silence 
and  self-restraint. 

"You  are  a  flatterer,  Mr.  Cassavetti,"  she  said  in 
mock  reproof.  "Come  along,  good  people;  there's 
plenty  of  room  here!"  as  other  acquaintances  joined 
us.  "Oh,  some  one's  going  to  recite  —  hush  !" 

The  next  hour  or  so  passed  pleasantly,  and  all  too 
quickly.  Anne  was  the  centre  of  a  merry  group,  and 
was  now  in  her  wittiest  and  most  gracious  mood. 
Cassavetti  remained  with  us,  speaking  seldom,  though 
he  could  be  a  brilliant  conversationalist  when  he  liked. 
He  listened  to  Anne's  every  word,  watched  every  gesture, 
unobtrusively,  but  with  a  curious  intentness. 

Soon  after  ten,  people  began  to  leave,  some  who 
lived  at  a  distance,  others  who  would  finish  the  evening 
elsewhere.  Anne  was  going  on  to  a  birthday  supper 
at  Mrs.  Dennis  Sutherland's  house  in  Kensington,  to 
which  many  theatrical  friends  had  been  bidden.  The 
invitation  was  an  impromptu  one,  given  and  accepted 
a  few  minutes  ago,  and  now  the  famous  actress  came 
to  claim  her  guest. 

"Ready,  Anne?  Sorry  you  can't  come  with  us, 
Mr.  Wynn;  but  come  later  if  you  can." 

We  moved  towards  the  door  all  together,  Anne  and 
her  hostess  with  their  hands  full  of  red  and  white 
flowers.  The  "Savages"  had  raided  the  table  decora^ 
tions,  and  presented  the  spoils  to  their  guests.  4 

Cassavetti  intercepted  Anne. 

"Good  night,  Miss  Pendennis,"  he  said  in  a  low 
voice,  adding,  in  French,  "Will  you  give  me  a  flower 
as  souvenir  of  our  first  meeting?" 


16  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

She  glanced  at  her  posy,  selected  a  spray  of  scarlet 
geranium,  and  presented  it  to  him  with  a  smile,  and 
a  word  that  I  did  not  catch. 

He  looked  at  her  more  intently  than  ever  as  he 
took  it. 

"A  thousand  thanks,  mademoiselle.  I  understand 
well,"  he  said,  with  a  queer  thrill  in  his  voice,  as  of 
suppressed  excitement. 

As  she  passed  on  I  heard  him  mutter  in  French: 
"The  symbol !  Then  it  is  she!  Yes,  without  doubt  it 
is  she!" 


CHAPTER  m 

THE   BLOOD-STAINED   PORTRAIT 

IN  the  vestibule  I  hung  around  waiting  till  Anne  and 
Mrs.  Dennis  Sutherland  should  reappear  from  the 
cloak-room. 

It  was  close  on  the  time  when  I  was  due  at  Whitehall 
Gardens,  but  I  must  have  a  parting  word  with  Anne, 
even  at  the  risk  of  being  late  for  the  appointment  with 
my  chief. 

Jim  and  Mary  passed  through,  and  paused  to  say 
good  night. 

"It 's  all  right,  Maurice?"  Mary  whispered.  "And 
you  're  coming  to  us  to-morrow,  anyhow  ? " 

"Yes ;  to  say  good-bye,  if  I  have  to  start  on  Monday." 

"Just  about  time  you  were  on  the  war-path  again, 
my  boy,"  said  Jim,  bluffly.  "Idleness  is  demoralizing, 
'specially  in  London." 

Now  this  was  scarcely  fair,  considering  that  it  was 
little  more  than  a  month  since  I  returned  from  South 
Africa,  where  I  had  been  to  observe  and  report  on  the 
conditions  of  labor  in  the  mines;  nor  had  I  been  by 
any  means  idle  during  those  weeks  of  comparative 
leisure.  But  I  knew,  of  course,  that  this  was  an  oblique 
reference  to  my  affair  with  Anne;  though  why  Jim 
should  disapprove  of  it  so  strongly  passed  my  compre- 
hension. If  Anne  chose  to  keep  me  on  tenter-hooks, 
well  that  was  my  affair,  not  his .'  Still,  I  was  n't  going 

2 


18  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

to  quarrel  with  Jim  over  his  opinion,  as  I  should  have 
quarrelled  with  any  other  man. 

Anne  joined  me  directly,  and  we  had  two  precious 
minutes  together  under  the  portico.  Mrs.  Sutherland's 
carriage  had  not  yet  come  into  the  courtyard,  and  she 
herself  was  chatting  with  folks  she  knew. 

There  were  plenty  of  people  about,  coming  and  going, 
but  Anne  and  I  paced  along  out  of  the  crowd,  and 
paused  in  the  shadow  of  one  of  the  pillars. 

She  looked  ethereal,  ghostlike,  in  her  long  white 
cloak,  with  a  filmy  hood  thing  drawn  loosely  over  her 
shining  hair. 

I  thought  her  paler  than  usual  —  though  that  might 
have  been  the  effect  of  the  electric  lights  overhead  — 
and  her  face  was  wistful,  but  very  fair  and  sweet  and 
innocent.  One  could  scarcely  believe  it  the  same  face 
that,  a  few  minutes  before,  had  been  animated  by 
audacious  mischief  and  coquetry.  Truly  her  moods 
were  many,  and  they  changed  with  every  fleeting 
moment. 

"I  've  behaved  abominably  to  you  all  the  evening," 
she  whispered  tremulously.  "And  yet  you  've  forgiven 
me." 

"There  's  nothing  to  forgive.  The  queen  can  do  no 
wrong,"  I  answered.  (How  Jim  Cayley  would  have 
jeered  at  me  if  he  could  have  heard !)  "Anne,  I  love 
you.  I  think  you  must  know  that  by  this  time,  dear." 

"Yes,  I  know,  and  —  and  I  am  glad  —  Maurice, 
though  I  don't  deserve  that  you  should  love  me.  I  've 
teased  you  so  shamefully  —  I  don't  know  what  pos- 
sessed me!" 

If  I  could  only  have  kissed  those  faltering  lips !  But 
I  dare  not.  We  were  within  range  of  too  many  curious 


THE  BLOOD-STAINED  PORTRAIT       19 

eyes.  Still,  I  held  her  hand  in  mine,  and  our  eyes  met. 
In  that  brief  moment  we  saw  each  into  the  other's  soul, 
and  saw  love  there,  the  true  love  passionate  and  pure, 
that,  once  born,  lasts  forever,  through  life  and  death 
and  all  eternity. 

She  was  the  first  to  speak,  breaking  a  silence  that 
could  have  lasted  but  a  fraction  of  tune,  but  there  are 
seconds  in  which  one  experiences  an  infinitude  of  joy 
or  sorrow. 

"And  you  are  going  away  —  so  soon  !  But  we  shall 
meet  to-morrow?" 

"Yes,  we  '11  have  one  day,  at  least;  there  is  so  much 
to  say — " 

Then,  in  a  flash,  I  remembered  the  old  man  and 
Cassavetti,  —  the  mystery  that  enshrouded  them,  and 
her. 

"I  may  not  be  able  to  come  early,  darling,"  I  con- 
tinued hurriedly.  "I  have  to  see  that  old  man  in  the 
morning.  He  says  he  knows  you,  —  that  you  are  in 
danger;  I  could  not  make  out  what  he  meant.  And 
he  spoke  of  Cassavetti;  he  came  to  see  him,  really. 
That  was  why  I  dare  not  tell  you  the  whole  story  just 
now  — " 

"Cassavetti !"  she  echoed,  and  I  saw  her  eyes  dilate 
and  darken.  "Who  is  he  —  what  is  he?  I  never  saw 
him  before,  but  he  came  up  and  talked  to  Mr.  Cayley, 
and  asked  to  be  introduced  to  me ;  and  —  and  I  was 
so  vexed  with  you,  Maurice,  that  I  began  to  flirt  with 
him ;  and  then  —  oh,  I  don't  know  —  he  is  so  strange 
—  he  perplexes  —  frightens  me  !" 

"And  yet  you  gave  him  a  flower,"  I  said  reproachfully. 

"I  can't  think  why  !  I  felt  so  queer,  as  if  I  could  n't 
help  myself.  I  just  had  to  give  him  one,  —  that  one ; 


20  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

and  when  I  looked  at  him,  —  Maurice,  what  does  a 
red  geranium  mean  ?  Has  it  — " 

"Mrs.  Dennis  Sutherland's  carriage!"  bawled  a 
liveried  official  by  the  centre  steps. 

Mrs.  Sutherland  swept  towards  us. 

"Come  along,  Anne,"  she  cried,  as  we  moved  to 
meet  her.  "Perhaps  we  shall  see  you  later,  Mr.  Wynn  ? 
You  '11  be  welcome  any  tune,  up  to  one  o'clock." 

I  put  them  into  the  carriage,  and  watched  them 
drive  away;  then  started,  on  foot,  for  Whitehall  Gar- 
dens. The  distance  was  so  short  that  I  could  cover  it 
more  quickly  walking  than  driving. 

The  night  was  sultry  and  overcast;  and  before  I 
reached  my  destination  big  drops  of  rain  were  spatter- 
ing down,  and  the  mutter  of  thunder  mingled  with  the 
ceaseless  roll  of  the  traffic. 

I  was  taken  straight  to  Lord  Southbourne's  sanctum, 
a  handsomely  furnished,  but  almost  ostentatiously 
business-like  apartment. 

Southbourne  himself,  seated  at  a  big  American 
desk,  was  making  hieroglyphics  on  a  sheet  of  paper 
before  him  while  he  dictated  rapidly  to  Harding,  his 
private  secretary,  who  manipulated  a  typewriter  close 
by. 

He  looked  up,  nodded  to  me,  indicated  a  chair,  and  a 
table  on  which  were  whiskey  and  soda  and  an  open  box 
of  cigarettes,  and  invited  me  to  help  myself,  all  with 
one  sweep  of  the  hand,  and  without  an  instant's  inter- 
ruption of  his  discourse,  —  an  impassioned  denunci- 
ation of  some  British  statesman  who  dared  to  differ 
from  him  —  Southbourne  —  on  some  burning  ques- 
tion of  the  day,  Tariff  Reform,  I  think;  but  I  did  not 
listen.  I  was  thinking  of  Anne;  and  was  only  sub- 


THE  BLOOD-STAINED  PORTRAIT       21 

consciously  aware  of  the  hard  monotonous  voice  until 
it  ceased. 

"That's  all,  Harding.  Thanks.  Good  night," 
said  Southbourne,  abruptly. 

He  rose,  yawned,  stretched  himself,  sauntered  towards 
me,  subsided  into  an  easy-chair,  and  lighted  a  cigarette. 

Harding  gathered  up  his  typed  slips,  exchanged  a 
friendly  nod  with  me,  and  quietly  took  himself  off. 

I  knew  Southbourne's  peculiarities  fairly  well,  and 
therefore  waited  for  him  to  speak. 

We  smoked  in  silence  for  a  time,  till  he  remarked 
abruptly:  "Carson  's  dead." 

"Dead!"  I  ejaculated,  in  genuine  consternation.  I 
had  known  and  liked  Carson ;  one  of  the  cleverest  and 
most  promising  of  Southbourne's  "young  men." 

He  blew  out  a  cloud  of  smoke,  watched  a  ring  form 
and  float  away  as  if  it  were  the  only  interesting  thing  in 
the  world.  Then  he  fired  another  word  off  at  me. 

"Murdered!" 

He  blew  another  smoke  ring,  and  there  was  a  spell  of 
silence.  I  do  not  even  now  know  whether  his  callous- 
ness was  real  or  feigned.  I  hope  it  was  feigned,  though 
he  affected  to  regard  all  who  served  him,  in  whatever 
capacity,  as  mere  pieces  in  the  ambitious  game  he 
played,  to  be  used  or  discarded  with  equal  skill  and 
ruthlessness,  and  if  an  unlucky  pawn  fell  from  the 
board,  —  why  it  was  lost  to  the  game,  and  there  was 
an  end  of  it. 

Murdered !  It  seemed  incredible.  I  thought  of 
Carson  as  I  last  saw  him,  the  day  before  I  started  for 
South  Africa,  when  we  dined  together  and  made  a 
night  of  it.  If  I  had  been  available  when  the  situation 
became  acute  in  Russia  a  few  weeks  later,  Southbourne 


22  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

would  have  sent  me  instead  of  him ;  I  should  perhaps 
have  met  with  his  fate.  I  knew,  of  course,  that  at  this 
time  a  "special"  in  Russia  ran  quite  as  many  risks  as 
a  war  correspondent  on  active  service;  but  it  was  one 
thing  to  encounter  a  stray  bullet  or  a  bayonet  thrust 
in  the  course  of  one's  day's  work,  —  say  during  an 
entente,  —  and  quite  another  to  be  murdered  in  cold 
blood. 

"That's  terrible!"  I  said  huskily,  at  last.  "He 
was  such  a  splendid  chap,  too,  poor  Carson.  Have  you 
any  details?" 

"Yes;  he  was  found  in  his  rooms,  stabbed  to  the 
heart.  He  must  have  been  dead  twenty-four  hours 
or  more." 

"And  the  police  have  tracked  the  murderer?" 

"No,  and  I  don't  suppose  they  will.  They  've  so 
many  similar  affairs  of  their  own  on  hand,  that  an 
Englishman  more  or  less  does  n't  count.  The  Em- 
bassy is  moving  in  the  matter,  but  it  is  very  unlikely 
that  anything  will  be  discovered  beyond  what  is  known 
already,  —  that  it  was  the  work  of  an  emissary  of  some 
secret  society  with  which  Carson  had  mixed  himself 
up,  in  defiance  of  my  instructions." 

He  paused  and  lighted  another  cigarette. 

"How  do  you  know  he  defied  your  instructions?" 
I  burst  out  indignantly.  The  tone  of  his  allusion  to 
Carson  riled  me.  "Don't  you  always  expect  us  to 
send  a  good  story,  no  matter  how,  or  at  what  personal 
risk,  we  get  the  material  ? " 

"Just  so,"  he  asserted  calmly.  "By  the  way,  if 
you  're  in  a  funk,  Wynn,  you  need  n't  go.  I  can  get 
another  man  to  take  your  place  to-night." 

"I  'm  not  in  a  funk,  and  I  mean  to  go,  unless  you 


THE  BLOOD-STAINED  PORTRAIT      23 

want  to  send  another  man.  If  you  do,  send  him  and  be 
damned  to  you  both  !"  I  retorted  hotly.  "Look  here, 
Lord  Southbourne ;  Carson  never  failed  in  his  duty,  — 
I  'd  stake  my  life  on  that !  And  I  '11  not  allow  you,  or 
any  man,  to  sneer  at  him  when  he  's  dead  and  can't 
defend  himself!" 

Southbourne  dropped  his  cigarette  and  stared  at  me, 
a  dusky  flush  rising  under  his  sallow  skin.  That  is  the 
only  time  I  have  ever  seen  any  sign  of  emotion  on  his 
impassive  face. 

"I  apologize,  Mr.  Wynn,"  he  said  stiffly.  "I  ought 
not  to  have  insinuated  that  you  were  afraid  to  under- 
take this  commission.  Your  past  record  has  proved 
you  the  very  reverse  of  a  coward  !  And,  I  assure  you, 
I  had  no  intention  of  sneering  at  poor  Carson  or  of 
decrying  his  work.  But  from  information  in  my  pos- 
session I  know  that  he  exceeded  his  instructions;  that 
he  ceased  to  be  a  mere  observer  of  the  vivid  drama  of 
Russian  life,  and  became  an  actor  in  it,  with  the  result, 
poor  chap,  that  he  has  paid  for  his  indiscretion  with  his 
life!" 

"How  do  you  know  all  this?"  I  demanded.  "How 
do  you  know  — " 

"That  he  was  not  in  search  of  'copy,'  but  in  pursuit 
of  his  private  ends,  when  he  deliberately  placed  him- 
self in  peril?  Well,  I  do  know  it;  and  that  is  all  I 
choose  to  say  on  this  point.  I  warned  him  at  the  out- 
set, —  as  I  need  not  have  warned  you,  —  that  he  must 
exercise  infinite  tact  and  discretion  in  his  relations  with 
the  police,  and  the  bureaucracy  which  the  police  rep- 
resent ;  and  also  with  the  people,  —  the  democracy. 
That  he  must,  in  fact,  maintain  a  strictly  impartial 
and  impersonal  attitude  and  view-point.  Well,  that 's 


24  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

just  what  he  failed  to  do.  He  became  involved  with 
some  secret  society ;  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  —  bet- 
ter, perhaps  —  that  Russia  is  honeycombed  with  'em. 
Probably  in  the  first  instance  he  was  actuated  by  curi- 
osity ;  but  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  his  connection 
with  this  society  was  a  purely  personal  affair.  There 
was  a  woman  in  it,  of  course.  I  can't  tell  you  just 
how  he  came  to  fall  foul  of  his  new  associates,  for  I 
don't  know.  Perhaps  they  imagined  he  knew  too 
much.  Anyhow,  he  was  found,  as  I  have  said, 
stabbed  to  the  heart.  There  is  no  clue  to  the 
assassin,  except  that  in  Carson's  clenched  hand 
was  found  an  artificial  flower,  —  a  red  geranium, 
which—" 

I  started  upright,  clutching  the  arms  of  my  chair. 
A  red  geranium !  The  bit  of  stuff  dangling  from 
Cassavetti's  pass-key;  the  hieroglyphic  on  the  por- 
trait, the  flower  Anne  had  given  to  Cassavetti,  and  to 
which  he  seemed  to  attach  so  much  significance.  All 
red  geraniums.  What  did  they  mean  ? 

"The  police  declare  it  to  be  the  symbol  of  a  formi- 
dable secret  organization  which  they  have  hitherto 
failed  to  crush;  one  that  has  ramifications  through- 
out the  world,"  Southbourne  continued.  "Why,  man, 
what 's  wrong  with  you?"  he  added  hastily. 

I  suppose  I  must  have  looked  ghastly ;  but  I  managed 
to  steady  my  voice,  and  answer  curtly:  "I  '11  tell  you 
later.  Go  on,  what  about  Carson?" 

He  rose  and  crossed  to  his  desk  before  he  answered, 
scrutinizing  me  with  keen  interest  the  while. 

"That 's  all.  Except  that  this  was  found  in  his  breast- 
pocket; I  got  it  by  to-night's  mail.  It 's  in  a  horrid 
state ;  the  blood  soaked  through,  of  course." 


THE   BLOOD-STAINED  PORTRAIT       25 

He  picked  up  a  small  oblong  card,  holding  it  gingerly 
in  his  finger-tips,  and  handed  it  to  me. 

I  think  I  knew  what  it  was,  even  before  I  looked  at 
it.  A  photograph  of  Anne  Pendennis,  identical  — 
save  that  it  was  unframed  —  with  that  which  was  in 
the  possession  of  the  miserable  old  Russian,  even  to  the 
initials,  the  inscription,  and  the  red  symbol  beneath  it ! 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   RIVER   STEPS 

"fT^HIS  was  found  in  Carson's  pocket?"    I  asked, 

A    steadying  my  voice  with  an  effort. 

He  nodded. 

I  affected  to  examine  the  portrait  closely,  to  gain  a 
moment's  time.  Should  I  tell  him,  right  now,  that  I 
knew  the  original ;  tell  him  also  of  my  strange  visitant  ? 
No ;  I  decided  to  keep  silence,  at  least  until  after  I  had 
seen  Anne,  and  cross-examined  the  old  Russian  again. 

"Have  you  any  clue  to  her  identity?"  I  said,  as  I 
rose  and  replaced  the  blood-stained  card  on  his  desk. 

"No.  I  've  no  doubt  the  Russian  Secret  Police  know 
well  enough  who  she  is;  but  they  don't  give  anything 
away,  —  even  to  me." 

"They  sent  you  that  promptly  enough,"  I  suggested, 
indicating  the  photograph  with  a  fresh  cigarette  which 
I  took  up  as  I  resumed  my  seat.  I  had  managed  to 
regain  my  composure,  and  have  no  doubt  that  South- 
bourne  considered  my  late  agitation  was  merely  the  out- 
come of  my  natural  horror  and  astonishment  at  the  news 
of  poor  Carson's  tragic  fate.  And  now  I  meant  to  ascer- 
tain all  he  knew  or  suspected  about  the  affair,  without 
revealing  my  personal  interest  in  it. 

"Not  they!  It  came  from  Von  Eckhardt.  It  was 
he  who  found  poor  Carson ;  and  he  took  possession  of 
that "  —  he  jerked  his  head  towards  the  desk  —  "  before 
the  police  came  on  the  scene,  and  got  it  through." 


THE  RIVER  STEPS  27 

I  knew  what  that  meant, — that  the  thing  had  not  been 
posted  in  Russia,  but  smuggled  across  the  frontier. 

I  had  met  Von  Eckhardt,  who  was  on  the  staff  of  an 
important  German  newspaper,  and  knew  that  he  and 
Carson  were  old  friends.  They  shared  rooms  at  St. 
Petersburg. 

"Now  why  should  Von  Eckhardt  run  such  a  risk?" 
I  asked. 

"Can't  say;  wish  I  could." 

"Where  was  he  when  poor  Carson  was  done  for?" 

"At  Wilna,  he  says;  he  'd  been  away  for  a  week." 

"Did  he  tell  you  about  this  Society,  and  its  red 
symbol  ? " 

"  'Pon  my  soul,  you  've  missed  your  vocation,  Wynn. 
You  ought  to  have  been  a  barrister ! "  drawled  South- 
bourne.  "No,  I  knew  all  that  before.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  I  warned  Carson  against  that  very  Society,  —  as 
I  'm  warning  you.  Von  Eckhardt  merely  told  me  the 
bare  facts,  including  that  about  the  bit  of  geranium 
Carson  was  clutching.  I  drew  my  own  inference. 
Here,  you  may  read  his  note." 

He  tossed  me  a  half-sheet  of  thin  note-paper,  covered 
on  one  side  with  Von  Eckhardt' s  crabbed  German 
script. 

It  was,  as  he  had  said,  a  mere  statement  of  facts, 
and  I  mentally  determined  to  seize  an  early  opportu- 
nity of  interviewing  Von  Eckhardt  when  I  arrived  at 
Petersburg. 

"You  needn't  have  troubled  to  question  me,"  re- 
sumed Southbourne,  in  his  most  nonchalant  manner. 
"  I  meant  to  tell  you  the  little  I  know,  —  for  your  own 
protection.  This  Society  is  one  of  those  revolutionary 
organizations  that  abound  in  Russia,  but  more  cleverly 


28  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

managed  than  most  of  them,  and  therefore  all  the  more 
dangerous.  Its  members  are  said  to  be  innumerable, 
and  of  every  class;  and  there  are  branches  in  every 
capital  of  Europe.  A  near  neighbor  of  yours,  by  the 
way,  is  under  surveillance  at  this  very  moment,  though 
I  believe  nothing  definite  has  been  traced  to  him." 

"  Cassavetti ! "  I  exclaimed  with,  I  am  sure,  an  excel- 
lent assumption  of  surprise. 

"You've  guessed  it  first  time;  though  his  name's 
Vladimir  Selinski.  If  you  see  him  between  now  and 
Monday,  when  you  must  start,  I  advise  you  not  to 
mention  your  destination  to  him,  unless  you  've  already 
done  so.  He  was  at  the  Savage  Club  dinner  to-night, 
was  n't  he?" 

One  of  Southbourne's  foibles  was  to  pose  as  a  kind 
of  "Sherlock  Holmes,"  but  I  was  not  in  the  least  im- 
pressed by  this  pretension  to  omniscience.  He  was  a 
member  of  the  club,  and  ought  to  have  been  at  the  din- 
ner himself.  If  he  had  looked  down  the  list  of  guests  he 
must  have  seen  "Miss  Anne  Pendennis  "  among  the 
names,  and  yet  I  believed  he  had  not  the  slightest  sus- 
picion that  she  was  the  original  of  that  portrait ! 

"I  saw  him  there,"  I  said,  "but  I  told  him  noth- 
ing of  my  movements;  though  we  are  on  fairly  good 
terms.  Do  you  think  I  'm  quite  a  fool,  Lord  South- 
bourne?" 

He  looked  amused,  and  blew  another  ring  before  he 
answered,  enigmatically:  "David  said  in  his  haste  'all 
men  are  liars.'  If  he  'd  said  at  his  leisure  '  all  men  are 
fools,  —  when  there  's  a  woman  in  the  case'  —  he  'd 
have  been  nearer  the  mark ! " 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  I  demanded,  hotly  enough. 

"  Well,  I  also  dined  at  the  Cecil  to-night,  though  not 


THE  RIVER  STEPS  29 

with  the  "Savages,"  and  I  happened  to  hear  that  you 
and  Cassavetti  —  we  '11  call  him  that  —  were  looking 
daggers  at  each  other,  and  that  the  lady,  who  was  re- 
markably handsome,  appeared  to  enjoy  the  situation! 
Who  is  she,  Wynn  ?  Do  I  know  her  ?  " 

I  watched  him  closely,  but  his  face  betrayed  nothing. 

"  I  think  your  informant  must  have  been  a  —  jour- 
nalist, Lord  Southbourne,"  I  said  very  quietly.  "And 
we  seem  to  have  strayed  pretty  considerably  from  the 
point.  I  came  here  to  take  your  instructions,  and  if 
I  'm  to  start  at  nine  on  Monday  I  shall  not  see  you 
again." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"All  right;  we'll  get  to  business.  Here's  the  new 
code ;  get  it  off  by  heart  between  now  and  Monday,  and 
destroy  the  copy.  It 's  safer.  Here  's  your  passport, 
duly  vised,  and  a  cheque.  That 's  all,  I  think.  I  don't 
need  to  teach  you  your  work.  But  I  don't  want  you  to 
meet  with  such  a  fate  as  Carson's;  so  I  expect  you  to 
be  warned  by  his  example.  And  you  are  not  to  make 
any  attempt  to  unravel  the  mystery  of  his  death.  I  tell 
you  that  for  your  own  safety !  The  matter  has  been 
taken  up  from  the  Embassy,  and  everything  possible 
will  be  done  to  hunt  the  assassin  down.  Good-bye,  and 
good  luck!" 

We  shook  hands  and  I  went  out  into  the  night.  It 
was  now  well  past  midnight,  and  the  streets  were  even 
quieter  than  usual  at  that  hour,  for  there  had  been  a 
sharp  storm  while  I  was  with  Southbourne.  I  had  heard 
the  crash  of  thunder  at  intervals,  and  the  patter  of  heavy 
rain  all  the  time.  Now  the  storm  was  over,  the  air  was 
cool  and  fresh,  the  sky  clear.  The  wet  street  gleamed 
silver  in  the  moonlight,  and  was  all  but  deserted.  The 


30  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

traffic  had  thinned  down  to  an  occasional  hansom  or 
private  carriage,  and  there  were  few  foot-passengers 
abroad.  I  did  not  meet  a  soul  along  the  whole  of 
Whitehall,  except  the  policemen,  their  wet  mackintoshes 
glistening  in  the  moonlight. 

But,  as  I  reached  the  corner  of  Parliament  Square, 
I  saw,  just  across  the  road,  a  man  and  woman  walking 
rapidly  in  the  direction  of  Westminster  Bridge.  I 
glanced  at  them  casually,  then  looked  again,  more 
intently.  The  man  looked  like  a  sailor;  he  wore  a 
pea-jacket  and  a  peaked  cap,  while  the  woman 
was  enveloped  in  a  long  dark  cloak,  and  had  a 
black  scarf  over  her  head.  I  saw  a  gleam  of  jewelled 
shoe-buckles  as  she  picked  her  way  daintily  across  the 
wet  roadway  to  the  further  corner  by  the  Houses  of 
Parliament. 

My  heart  seemed  to  stand  still  as  I  watched  her.  At 
any  other  time  or  place  I  would  have  sworn  that  I  knew 
the  tall,  slender  figure,  the  imperial  poise  of  the  head, 
the  peculiarly  graceful  gait,  swift  but  not  hurried.  I 
inwardly  jeered  at  myself  for  my  idiocy.  My  mind  was 
so  full  of  Anne  Pendennis  that  I  must  imagine  every 
tall,  graceful  woman  was  she !  This  lady  was  doubtless 
a  resident  in  the  southern  suburbs,  detained  by  the 
storm,  and  now  on  her  way  to  one  of  the  all-night  trams 
that  start  from  the  far  side  of  Westminster  Bridge. 
There  was  quite  a  suburban  touch  in  a  woman  in  even- 
ing dress  being  escorted  by  a  man  in  a  pea-jacket.  She 
might  be  an  artiste.,  too  poor  to  afford  a  cab  home. 

Nevertheless,  while  these  thoughts  ran  through  my 
mind,  I  was  following  the  couple.  They  walked  so 
swiftly  that  I  did  not  decrease  the  distance  between  us. 
Half-way  across  the  bridge  I  was  intercepted  by  a 


THE  RIVER   STEPS  31 

beggar,  who  whined  for  "the  price  of  a  doss  "  and  kept 
pace  with  me,  till  I  got  rid  of  him  with  the  bestowal  of 
a  coin ;  but  when  I  looked  for  the  couple  I  was  stalking 
they  had  disappeared. 

I  quickened  my  pace  to  a  run,  and  at  the  further  end 
looked  anxiously  ahead,  but  could  see  no  trace  of  them. 
There  were  more  people  stirring  in  the  Westminster 
Bridge  Road,  even  at  this  hour;  street  hawkers  start- 
ing home  with  their  sodden  barrows,  the  usual  dis- 
reputable knot  of  loungers  gathered  around  a  coffee- 
stall;  but  those  whom  I  looked  for  had  vanished. 
Swiftly  as  they  were  walking  they  could  scarcely  have 
traversed  the  distance  between  the  bridge  and  the 
trams  in  so  short  a  time. 

Had  they  gone  down  the  steps  to  the  river  embank- 
ment? I  paused  and  listened,  thought  I  heard  a  faint 
patter,  as  of  a  woman's  high  heels  on  the  stone  steps, 
and  ran  down  the  flight. 

The  paved  walk  below  St.  Thomas'  Hospital  was 
deserted;  I  could  see  far  in  the  moonlight.  But  near 
at  hand  I  heard  the  plash  of  oars.  I  looked  around 
and  saw  that  to  the  right  there  was  a  second  flight  of 
steps,  almost  under  the  shadow  of  the  first  arch  of  the 
bridge,  and  leading  right  down  to  the  river. 

I  vaulted  the  bar  that  guarded  the  top  of  the  flight 
and  ran  down  the  steps.  Yes,  there  was  the  boat,  with 
the  sailor  and  another  man  pulling  at  the  oars,  and  the 
woman  sitting  in  the  stern.  The  scarf  had  slipped 
back  a  little,  and  I  saw  the  glint  of  her  bright  hair. 

"Anne!     Anne!"   I  cried  desperately. 

She  heard  and  turned  her  face. 

My  God,  it  was  Anne  herself !  For  a  second  only  I 
saw  her  face  distinctly,  then  she  pulled  the  scarf  over  it 


32  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

with  a  quick  gesture;  the  boat  shot  under  the  dark 
shadow  of  the  arches  and  disappeared. 

I  stood  dumbfounded  for  some  minutes,  staring  at  the 
river,  and  trying  to  convince  myself  that  I  was  mad  — 
that  I  had  dreamt  the  whole  incident. 

When  at  last  I  turned  to  retrace  my  steps  I  saw  some- 
thing dark  lying  at  the  top  of  the  steps,  stooped,  and 
picked  it  up. 

It  was  a  spray  of  scarlet  geranium ! 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   MYSTERY   THICKENS 

WHEN  I  regained  the  bridge  I  crossed  to  the 
further  parapet  and  looked  down  at  the  river. 
I  could  see  nothing  of  the  boat;  doubtless  it  had 
passed  out  of  sight  behind  a  string  of  barges  that  lay 
in  the  tideway.  As  I  watched,  the  moon  was  veiled 
again  by  the  clouds  that  rolled  up  from  the  west,  her- 
alding a  second  storm;  and  in  another  minute  or  so  a 
fresh  deluge  had  commenced. 

But  I  scarcely  heeded  it.  I  leaned  against  the  parapet 
staring  at  the  dark,  mysterious  river  and  the  lights  that 
fringed  and  spanned  it  like  strings  of  blurred  jewels, 
seen  mistily  through  the  driving  rain. 

I  was  bareheaded,  for  the  fierce  gust  of  wind  that 
came  as  harbinger  of  the  squall  had  swept  off  my  hat 
and  whirled  it  into  the  water,  where  doubtless  it  would 
be  carried  down-stream,  on  the  swiftly  ebbing  tide,  in 
the  wake  of  that  boat  which  was  hastening  —  whither  ? 
I  don't  think  I  knew  at  the  time  that  my  hat  was  gone. 
I  have  lived  through  some  strange  and  terrible  experi- 
ences; but  I  have  seldom  suffered  more  mental  agony 
than  I  did  during  those  few  minutes  that  I  stood  in  the 
rain  on  Westminster  Bridge. 

I  was  trembling  from  head  to  foot,  my  soul  was  sick, 
my  mind  distracted  by  the  effort  to  find  any  plausible 
explanation  of  the  scene  I  had  just  witnessed. 

3 


34  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

What  was  this  mystery  that  encompassed  the  girl  I 
loved;  that  had  closed  around  her  now?  A  mystery 
that  I  had  never  even  suspected  till  a  few  hours  ago, 
though  I  had  seen  Anne  every  day  for  this  month  past, 
—  ever  since  I  first  met  her. 

But,  after  all,  what  did  I  know  of  her  antecedents  ? 
Next  to  nothing;  and  that  I  had  learned  mainly  from 
my  cousin  Mary. 

Now  I  came  to  think  of  it,  Anne  had  told  me  very 
little  about  herself.  I  knew  that  her  father,  Anthony 
Pendennis,  came  of  an  old  family,  and  possessed  a 
house  and  estate  in  the  west  of  England,  which  he  had 
let  on  a  long  lease.  Anne  had  never  seen  her  ancestral 
home;  for  her  father  lived  a  nomadic  existence  on  the 
Continent;  one  which  she  had  shared,  since  she  left  the 
school  at  Neuilly,  where  she  and  Mary  first  became 
friends. 

I  gathered  that  she  and  her  father  were  devoted  to 
each  other ;  and  that  he  had  spared  her  unwillingly  for 
this  long-promised  visit  to  her  old  school-fellow.  Mary, 
I  knew,  would  have  welcomed  Mr.  Pendennis  also ;  but 
by  all  accounts  he  was  an  eccentric  person,  who  pre- 
ferred to  live  anywhere  rather  than  in  England,  the 
land  of  his  birth.  He  and  Anne  were  birds  of  passage, 
who  wintered  in  Italy  or  Spain  or  Egypt  as  the  whim 
seized  him;  and  spent  the  summer  in  Switzerland  or 
Tyrol,  or  elsewhere.  In  brief  they  wandered  over 
Europe,  north  and  south,  according  to  the  season; 
avoiding  only  the  Russian  Empire  and  the  British 
Isles. 

I  had  never  worried  my  mind  with  conjectures  as  to 
the  reason  of  this  unconventional  mode  of  living.  It 
had  seemed  to  me  natural  enough,  as  I,  too,  was  a 


THE  MYSTERY  THICKENS  35 

nomad ;  a  stranger  and  sojourner  in  many  lands,  since 
I  left  the  old  homestead  in  Iowa  twelve  years  ago,  to 
seek  my  fortune  in  the  great  world.  During  these  won- 
derful weeks  I  had  been  spellbound,  as  it  were,  by 
Anne's  beauty,  her  charm.  When  I  was  with  her  I 
could  think  only  of  her;  and  in  the  intervals,  —  well,  I 
still  thought  of  her,  and  was  dejected  or  elated  as  she 
had  been  cruel  or  kind.  To  me  her  many  caprices  had 
seemed  but  the  outcome  of  her  youthful  light-hearted- 
ness  ;  of  a  certain  nai've  coquetry,  that  rendered  her  all 
the  more  dear  and  desirable;  "a  rosebud  set  about  with 
little  wilful  thorns  " ;  a  girl  who  would  not  be  easily 
wooed  and  won,  and,  therefore,  a  girl  well  worth 
winning. 

But  now  —  now  —  I  saw  her  from  a  different  stand- 
point ;  saw  her  enshrouded  in  a  dark  mystery,  the  clue 
to  which  eluded  me.  Only  one  belief  I  clung  to  with 
passionate  conviction,  as  a  drowning  man  clings  to 
a  straw.  She  loved  me.  I  could  not  doubt  that, 
remembering  the  expression  of  her  wistful  face  as 
we  parted  under  the  portico  so  short  a  time  ago, 
though  it  seemed  like  a  lifetime.  Had  she  planned  her 
flight  even  then,  —  if  flight  it  was,  —  and  what  else 
could  it  be? 

My  cogitations  terminated  abruptly  for  the  moment 
as  a  heavy  hand  was  laid  on  my  shoulder,  and  a  gruff 
voice  said  in  my  ear :  "  Come,  none  o'  that,  now ! 
What  are  you  up  to?" 

I  turned  and  faced  a  burly  policeman,  whom  I  knew 
well.  He  recognized  me,  also,  and  saluted. 

"  Beg  pardon ;  did  n't  know  it  was  you,  sir.  Thought 
it  was  one  of  these  here  sooicides,  or  some  one  that  had 
had  —  well,  a  drop  too  much." 


36  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

He  eyed  me  curiously.  I  dare  say  I  looked,  in  my 
hatless  and  drenched  condition,  as  if  I  might  come 
under  the  latter  category. 

"It 's  all  right,"  I  answered,  forcing  a  laugh.  "I 
was  n't  meditating  a  plunge  in  the  river.  My  hat  blew 
off,  and  when  I  looked  after  it  I  saw  something  that  in- 
terested me,  and  stayed  to  watch." 

It  was  a  lame  explanation  and  not  precisely  true.  He 
glanced  over  the  parapet  in  his  turn.  The  rain  was 
abating  once  more,  and  the  light  was  growing  as  the 
clouds  sped  onwards.  The  moon  was  at  full,  and 
would  only  set  at  dawn. 

"I  don't  see  anything,"  he  remarked.  "What  was 
it,  sir  ?  Anything  suspicious  ?" 

His  tone  inferred  that  it  must  have  been  something 
very  much  out  of  the  common  to  have  kept  me  there  in 
the  rain.  Having  told  him  so  much  I  was  bound  to  tell 
him  more. 

"A  rowboat,  with  two  or  three  people  in  it;  going 
down-stream.  That 's  unusual  at  this  time  of  night  — 
or  morning  —  is  n't  it  ?" 

He  grinned  widely. 

"Was  that  all  ?  It  was  n't  worth  the  wetting  you  've 
got,  sir!" 

"I  don't  see  where  the  joke  comes  in,"  I  said. 

"Well,  sir,  you  newspaper  gents  are  always  on  the 
lookout  for  mysteries,"  he  asserted,  half  apologetically. 
"There  's  nothing  out  of  the  way  in  a  boat  going  up  or 
down-stream  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night ;  or  if  there 
was  the  river  police  would  be  on  its  track  in  a  jiffy. 
They  patrol  the  river  same  as  we  walk  our  beat.  It 
might  have  been  one  of  their  boats  you  saw,  or  some 
bargees  as  had  been  making  a  night  of  it  ashore.  If  I 


THE  MYSTERY  THICKENS  37 

was  you,  I  'd  turn  in  as  soon  as  possible.  'T  ain't  good 
for  any  one  to  stand  about  in  wet  clothes." 

We  walked  the  length  of  the  bridge  together,  and  he 
continued  to  hold  forth  loquaciously.  We  parted,  on 
the  best  of  terms,  at  the  end  of  his  beat ;  and  following 
his  advice,  I  walked  rapidly  homewards.  I  was  chilled 
to  the  bone,  and  unutterably  miserable,  but  if  I  stayed 
out  all  night  that  would  not  alter  the  situation. 

The  street  door  swung  back  under  my  touch,  as  I 
was  in  the  act  of  inserting  my  latch-key  in  the  lock. 
Some  one  had  left  it  open,  in  defiance  of  the  regulations, 
well  known  to  every  tenant  of  the  block.  I  slammed  it 
with  somewhat  unnecessary  vigor,  and  the  sound  went 
booming  and  echoing  up  the  well  of  the  stone  staircase, 
making  a  horrible  din,  fit  to  wake  the  seven  sleepers  of 
Ephesus. 

It  did  waken  the  housekeeper's  big  watch-dog, 
chained  up  in  the  basement,  and  he  bayed  furiously.  I 
leaned  over  the  balustrade  and  called  out.  He  knew 
my  voice,  and  quieted  down  at  once,  but  not  before  his 
master  had  come  out  in  his  pyjamas,  yawning  and 
blinking.  Poor  old  Jenkins,  his  rest  was  pretty  fre- 
quently disturbed,  for  if  any  one  of  the  bachelor  tenants 
of  the  upper  flats  —  the  lower  ones  were  let  out  as 
offices  —  forgot  his  street-door  key,  or  returned  in  the 
small  hours  in  a  condition  that  precluded  him  from 
manipulating  it,  Jenkins  would  be  rung  up  to  let  him 
in ;  and,  being  one  of  the  best  of  good  sorts,  would  cer- 
tainly guide  him  up  the  staircase  and  put  him  comfort- 
ably to  bed. 

"I  'm  right  down  sorry,  Jenkins,"  I  called.  "I  found 
the  street  door  open,  and  slammed  it  without  thinking." 

"Open!     Well  there,  who  could  have  left  it  open, 


38  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

going  out  or  in?"  he  exclaimed,  seeming  more  per- 
turbed than  the  occasion  warranted.  "Must  have  been 
quite  a  short  time  back,  for  it  is  n't  an  hour  since  Caesar 
began  barking  like  he  did  just  now;  and  he  never 
barks  for  nothing.  I  went  right  up  the  stairs  and  there 
was  no  one  there  and  not  a  sound.  The  door  was  shut 
fast  enough  then,  for  I  tried  it.  It  could  n't  have  been 
Mr.  Gray  or  Mr.  Sellars,  for  they  're  away  week 
ending,  and  Mr.  Cassavetti  came  in  before  twelve. 
I  met  him  on  the  stairs  as  I  was  turning  the  lights 
down." 

"Perhaps  he  went  out  again  to  post,"  I  suggested. 
"Good  night,  Jenkins." 

"Good  night,  sir.  You  got  caught  in  the  storm, 
then  ? "  He  had  just  seen  how  wet  I  was,  and  eyed  me 
curiously,  as  the  policeman  had  done. 

"Yes,  could  n't  see  a  cab  and  had  to  come  through  it. 
Lost  my  hat,  too;  it  blew  off,"  I  answered  over  my 
shoulder,  as  I  ran  up  the  stairs.  Lightly  clad  though 
he  was,  Jenkins  seemed  inclined  to  stay  gossiping  there 
till  further  orders. 

When  I  got  into  my  flat  and  switched  on  the  lights, 
I  found  I  still  held,  crumpled  up  in  my  hand,  the  bit  of 
geranium  I  had  picked  up  on  the  river  steps.  But  for 
that  evidence  I  might  have  persuaded  myself  that  I 
had  imagined  the  whole  thing.  I  dropped  the  crushed 
petals  into  the  waste-paper  basket,  and,  as  I  hastily 
changed  from  my  wet  clothes  into  pyjamas,  I  mentally 
rehearsed  the  scene  over  and  over  again.  Could  I  have 
been  misled  by  a  chance  resemblance?  Impossible. 
Anne  was  not  merely  a  beautiful  girl,  but  a  strikingly 
distinctive  personality.  I  had  recognized  her  figure, 
her  gait,  as  I  would  have  recognized  them  among  a 


39 

thousand ;  that  fleeting  glimpse  of  her  face  had  merely 
confirmed  the  recognition.  As  for  her  presence  in  West- 
minster at  a  time  when  she  should  have  been  at  Mrs. 
Dennis  Sutherland's  house  in  Kensington,  or  at  home 
with  the  Cayleys  in  Chelsea,  that  could  be  easily  ac- 
counted for  on  the  presumption  that  she  had  not  stayed 
long  at  Mrs.  Sutherland's.  Had  the  Cayleys  already 
discovered  her  flight?  Probably  not.  Was  Cassavetti 
cognizant  of  it,  —  concerned  with  it  in  any  way ;  and 
was  the  incident  of  the  open  door  that  had  so  perplexed 
Jenkins  another  link  in  the  mysterious  chain  ?  At  any 
rate,  Cassavetti  was  not  the  man  dressed  as  a  sailor; 
though  he  might  have  been  the  man  in  the  boat. 

The  more  I  brooded  over  it  the  more  bewildered  — 
distracted  —  my  brain  became.  I  tried  to  dismiss  the 
problem  from  my  mind,  "to  give  it  up,"  in  fact;  and, 
since  sleep  was  out  of  the  question,  to  occupy  myself 
with  preparations  for  the  packing  that  must  be  done 
to-morrow  —  no,  to-day,  for  the  dawn  had  come  —  if  I 
were  to  start  for  Russia  on  Monday  morning. 

But  it  was  no  use.  I  could  not  concentrate  my  mind 
on  anything ;  also,  though  I  'm  an  abstemious  man  as 
a  rule,  I  guess  I  put  away  a  considerable  amount  of 
whiskey.  Anyhow,  I  've  no  recollection  of  going  to  bed ; 
but  I  woke  with  a  splitting  headache,  and  a  thirst  I 
would  n't  take  five  dollars  for,  and  the  first  things  I 
saw  were  a  whiskey  bottle  and  soda  syphon  —  both 
empty  —  on  the  dressing-table. 

As  I  lay  blinking  at  those  silent  witnesses  —  the 
bottle  had  been  nearly  full  overnight  —  and  trying  to 
remember  what  had  happened,  there  came  a  knock  at 
my  bedroom  door*  and  Mrs.  Jenkins  came  in  with  my 
breakfast  tray. 


40  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

She  was  an  austere  dame,  and  the  glance  she  cast  at 
that  empty  whiskey  bottle  was  more  significant  and  ac- 
cusatory than  any  words  could  have  been;  though  all 
she  said  was:  "I  knocked  before,  sir,  with  your  shaving 
water,  but  you  did  n't  hear.  It 's  cold  now,  but  I  '11  put 
some  fresh  outside  directly." 

I  mumbled  meek  thanks,  and,  when  she  retreated, 
poured  out  some  tea.  I  guessed  there  were  eggs  and 
bacon,  the  alpha  and  omega  of  British  ideas  of  break- 
fast, under  the  dish  cover;  but  I  did  not  lift  it.  My 
soul  —  and  my  stomach  —  revolted  at  the  very  thought 
of  such  fare. 

I  had  scarcely  sipped  my  tea  when  I  heard  the  tele- 
phone bell  ring  in  the  adjoining  room.  I  scrambled  up 
and  was  at  the  door  when  Mrs.  Jenkins  announced 
severely:  "The  telephone,  Mr.  Wynn,"  and  retreated 
to  the  landing. 

"Hello?" 

"Is  that  Mr.  Wynn  ?"  responded  a  soft,  rich,  feminine 
voice  that  set  my  pulses  tingling.  "Oh,  it  is  you, 
Maurice;  I  'm  so  glad.  We  rang  you  up  from  Chelsea, 
but  could  get  no  answer.  You  won't  know  who  it  is 
speaking;  it  is  I,  Anne  Pendennis  !" 


CHAPTER  VI 

"MURDER  MOST  FOUL" 

"  T'M  speaking  from  Charing  Cross  station;   can  you 

•i-  hear  me?"  the  voice  continued.  "I've  had  a 
letter  from  my  father;  he  's  ill,  and  I  must  go  to  him 
at  once.  I  'm  starting  now,  nine  o'clock." 

I  glanced  at  the  clock,  which  showed  a  quarter  to 
nine. 

"I'll  be  with  you  in  five  minutes  —  darling!"  I 
responded,  throwing  in  the  last  word  with  immense 
audacity.  "Au  revoir;  I  've  got  to  hustle  !" 

I  put  up  the  receiver  and  dashed  back  into  my  bed- 
room, where  my  cold  bath,  fortunately,  stood  ready. 
Within  five  minutes  I  was  running  down  the  stairs,  as 
if  a  sheriff  and  posse  were  after  me,  while  Mrs.  Jenkins 
leaned  over  the  handrail  and  watched  me,  evidently 
under  the  impression  that  I  was  the  victim  of  sudden 
dementia. 

There  was  not  a  cab  to  be  seen,  of  course;  there 
never  is  one  in  Westminster  on  a  Sunday  morning,  and 
I  raced  the  whole  way  to  Charing  Cross  on  foot;  tore 
into  the  station,  and  made  for  the  platform  whence  the 
continental  mail  started.  An  agitated  official  tried  to 
stop  me  at  the  barrier. 

"Too  late,  sir,  train's  off;  here  —  stand  away  — 
stand  away  there!" 

He  yelled  after  me  as  I  pushed  past  him  and  scooted 
along  the  platform.  I  had  no  breath  to  spare  for  ex- 


42  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

planations,  but  I  dodged  the  porters  who  started  for- 
ward to  intercept  me,  and  got  alongside  the  car,  where 
I  saw  Anne  leaning  out  of  the  window. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ? "  I  gasped,  running  alongside. 

"Berlin.  Mary  has  the  address!"  Anne  called. 
"Oh,  Maurice,  let  go;  you  '11  be  killed  !" 

A  dozen  hands  grasped  me  and  held  me  back  by 
main  force. 

"  See  you  —  Tuesday  ! "  I  cried,  and  she  waved  her 
hand  as  if  she  understood. 

"It's  —  all  right  —  you  fellows  —  I  wasn't  trying 
—  to  board  —  the  car  — "  I  said  in  jerks,  as  I  got  my 
breath  again,  and  I  guess  they  grasped  the  situation, 
for  they  grinned  and  cleared  off,  as  Mary  walked  up 
to  me. 

"Well,  I  must  say  you  ran  it  pretty  fine,  Maurice,'* 
she  remarked  accusatively.  "And,  my!  what  a  fright 
you  look !  Why,  you  have  n't  shaved  this  morning ; 
and  your  tie  's  all  crooked  !" 

I  put  my  hand  up  to  my  chin. 

"I  was  only  just  awake  when  Anne  rang  me  up,"  I 
explained  apologetically.  "It 's  exactly  fifteen  and  a 
half  minutes  since  I  got  out  of  bed;  and  I  ran  the 
whole  way!" 

"You  look  like  it,  you  disreputable  young  man,"  she 
retorted  laughing.  "Well,  you'd  better  come  right 
back  to  breakfast.  You  can  use  Jim's  shaving  tackle 
to  make  yourself  presentable." 

She  marched  me  off  to  the  waiting  brougham, 
and  gave  me  the  facts  of  Anne's  hasty  departure  as 
we  drove  rapidly  along  the  quiet,  clean-washed,  sunny 
streets. 

"The  letter  came  last  night,  but  of  course  Anne 


"MURDER  MOST  FOUL"  43 

did  n't  get  it  till  she  came  in  this  morning,  about 
three." 

"Did  you  sit  up  for  her?" 

"  Goodness,  no !  Did  n't  you  see  Jim  lend  her  his 
latch-key  ?  We  knew  it  would  be  a  late  affair,  — 
that 's  why  we  did  n't  go,  —  and  that  some  one  would 
see  her  safe  home,  even  if  you  weren't  there.  The 
Amory's  motored  her  home  in  their  car;  they  had  to 
wait  for  the  storm  to  clear.  I  had  been  sleeping  the 
sleep  of  the  just  for  hours,  and  never  even  heard  her 
come  in.  She  '11  be  dead  tired,  poor  dear,  having  next 
to  no  sleep,  and  then  rushing  off  like  this  — " 

"What's  wrong  with  Mr.  Pendennis?"  I  interpo- 
lated. "Was  the  letter  from  him ?" 

"Why,  certainly;  who  should  it  be  from?  We 
didn't  guess  it  was  important,  or  we'd  have  sent  it 
round  to  her  at  Mrs.  Sutherland's  last  night.  He  's 
been  sick  for  some  days,  and  Anne  believes  he 's  worse 
than  he  makes  out.  She  only  sent  word  to  my  room  a 
little  before  eight;  and  then  she  was  all  packed  and 
ready  to  go.  Wild  horses  would  n't  keep  Anne  from 
her  father  if  he  wanted  her  !  We  're  to  send  her  trunks 
on  to-morrow." 

While  my  cousin  prattled  on,  I  was  recalling  the  events 
of  a  few  hours  back.  I  must  have  been  mistaken,  after 
all !  What  a  fool  I  had  been !  Why  had  n't  I  gone 
straight  to  Kensington  after  I  left  Lord  Southbourne? 
I  should  have  spared  myself  a  good  deal  of  misery. 
And  yet  —  I  thought  of  Anne's  face  as  I  saw  it  just 
now,  looking  out  of  the  window,  pale  and  agitated, 
just  as  it  had  looked  in  the  moonlight  last  night.  No  ! 
I  might  mentally  call  myself  every  kind  of  idiot,  but 
my  conviction  remained  fixed;  it  was  Anne  whom  I 


44  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

had  seen.  Suppose  she  had  left  Mrs.  Sutherland's 
early,  as  I  had  decided  she  must  have  done,  when  I 
racked  my  brains  in  the  night.  It  was  close  on  one 
o'clock  when  I  saw  her  on  the  river;  she  might  have 
landed  lower  down.  I  did  not  know  —  I  do  not  know 
even  now  —  if  there  were  any  steps  like  those  by  West- 
minster Bridge,  where  a  landing  could  be  effected ;  but 
suppose  there  were,  she  would  be  able  to  get  back  to 
Cayleys  by  the  time  she  had  said.  But  why  go  on  such 
an  expedition  at  all  ?  Why  ?  That  was  the  madden- 
ing question  to  which  I  could  not  even  suggest  an 
answer. 

"What  was  it  you  called  to  Anne  about  seeing  her  on 
Tuesday?"  demanded  Mary,  who  fortunately  did  not 
notice  my  preoccupation. 

"I  shall  break  my  journey  there." 

"  Of  course.  I  forgot  you  were  off  to-morrow.  Where 
to?" 

"St.  Petersburg." 

"  My  !  You  '11  have  a  lively  time  there  by  all  accounts. 
Here  we  are ;  I  had  n't  time  for  breakfast,  and  I  'm 
hungry.  Are  n't  you  ?" 

As  we  crossed  the  hall  I  saw  a  woman's  dark  cloak, 
flung  across  an  oak  settee.  It  struck  me  as  being  rather 
like  that  which  Anne  —  if  it  were  Anne  —  had  worn. 
Mary  picked  it  up. 

"That  ought  n't  to  be  lying  there.  It 's  Mrs.  Suther- 
land's. Anne  borrowed  it  last  night  as  her  own  was 
flimsy  for  a  car.  I  must  send  it  back  to-day.  Go 
right  up  to  Jim's  dressing-room,  Maurice;  you  '11 
find  all  you  want  there." 

She  ran  up  the  stairs  before  me,  the  cloak  over  her 
arm,  little  thinking  how  significant  that  cloak  was  to  me. 


"MURDER  MOST  FOUL"  45 

I  cut  myself  rather  badly  while  shaving,  and  I 
evinced  a  poor  appetite  for  breakfast.  Jim  and  Mary, 
especially  Jim,  saw  fit  to  rally  me  on  that,  and  on  my 
solemn  visage,  which  was  not  exactly  beautified  by  the 
cut.  I  took  myself  off  as  soon  after  the  meal  as  I  de- 
cently could,  on  the  plea  of  getting  through  with  my 
packing;  though  I  promised  to  return  in  the  evening 
to  say  good-bye. 

I  had  remembered  my  appointment  with  the  old 
Russian,  and  was  desperately  anxious  not  to  be  out  if 
he  should  come. 

On  one  point  I  was  determined.  I  would  give  no 
one,  not  even  Mary,  so  much  as  a  hint  of  the  mysteries 
that  were  half-maddening  me ;  at  least  until  I  had  been 
able  to  seek  an  explanation  of  them  from  Anne  herself. 

My  man  never  turned  up,  nor  had  he  been  there 
while  I  was  absent,  as  I  elicited  by  a  casual  inquiry  of 
Jenkins  as  to  whether  any  one  had  called. 

I  told  him  when  I  returned  from  the  Cayleys  that  I 
was  going  away  in  the  morning,  and  he  came  to  lend 
a  hand  with  the  packing  and  clearing  up. 

"  No,  sir,  not  a  soul  's  been ;  the  street  door  was  shut 
all  morning.  I  'd  rather  be  rung  up  a  dozen  times  than 
have  bad  characters  prowling  about  on  the  staircase. 
There's  a  lot  of  wrong  'uns  round  about  Westminster! 
Seems  quieter  than  usual  up  here  to-day,  don't  it, 
sir  ?  With  all  the  residential  away,  except  you." 

"Why,  is  Cassavetti  away,  too?"  I  asked,  looking 
up. 

"I  think  he  must  be,  sir,  for  I  have  n't  seen  or  heard 
anything  of  him.  But  I  don't  do  for  him  as  I  do  for 
you  and  the  other  gents.  He  does  for  himself,  and 
won't  let  me  have  a  key,  or  the  run  of  his  rooms.  His 


46  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

tenancy  's  up  in  a  week  or  two,  and  a  pretty  state  we 
shall  find  'em  in,  I  expect !  We  shan't  miss  him  like 
we  miss  you,  sir.  Shall  you  be  long  away  this  tune  ?" 

"Can't  say,  Jenkins.  It  may  be  one  month  or  six  — 
or  forever,"  I  added,  remembering  Carson's  fate. 

"Oh,  don't  say  that,  sir,"  remonstrated  Jenkins. 

"I  wonder  if  Mr.  Cassavetti  is  out.  I  'd  like  to  say 
good-bye  to  him,"  I  resumed  presently.  "Go  up  and 
ring,  there  's  a  good  chap,  Jenkins.  And  if  he  's  there, 
you  might  ask  him  to  come  down." 

It  struck  me  that  I  might  at  least  ascertain  from 
Cassavetti  what  he  knew  of  Anne.  Why  had  n't  I 
thought  of  that  before  ? 

Jenkins  departed  on  his  errand,  and  half  a  minute 
later  I  heard  a  yell  that  brought  me  to  my  feet  with  a 
bound. 

"Hello,  what's  up?"  I  called,  and  rushed  up  the 
stairs,  to  meet  Jenkins  at  the  top,  white  and  shaking. 

"Look  there,  sir,"  he  stammered.  "What  is  it? 
'T  was  n't  there  this  morning,  when  I  turned  the  lights 
out,  I'll  swear!" 

He  pointed  to  the  door-sill,  through  which  was  oozing 
a  sluggish,  sinister-looking  stream  of  dark  red  fluid. 

"It 's  —  it 's  blood  !"  he  whispered. 

I  had  seen  that  at  the  first  glance. 

"Shall  I  go  for  the  police?" 

"No,"  I  said  sharply.    "He  may  be  only  wounded." 

I  went  and  hammered  at  the  door,  avoiding  contact 
with  that  horrible  little  pool. 

"Cassavetti!  Cassavetti!  Are  you  within,  man?" 
I  shouted ;  but  there  was  no  answer. 

"Stand  aside.    I  'm  going  to  break  the  lock,"  I  cried. 

I  flung  myself,  shoulder  first,  against  the  lock,  and 


"MURDER  MOST  FOUL"  47 

caught  at  the  lintel  to  save  myself  from  falling,  as  the 
lock  gave  and  the  door  swung  inwards,  —  to  rebound 
from  something  that  it  struck  against. 

I  pushed  it  open  again,  entered  sideways  through  the 
aperture,  and  beckoned  Jenkins  to  follow. 

Huddled  up  in  a  heap,  almost  behind  the  door,  was 
the  body  of  a  man ;  the  face  with  its  staring  eyes  was 
upturned  to  the  light. 

It  was  Cassavetti  himself,  dead;  stabbed  to  the 
heart. 


CHAPTER  VH 

A  RED-HAIRED   WOMAN! 

I  BENT  over  the  corpse  and  touched  the  forehead 
tentatively  with  my  finger-tips.  It  was  stone  cold. 
The  man  must  have  been  dead  many  hours. 

"Come  on;  we  must  send  for  the  police;  pull 
yourself  together,  man ! "  I  said  to  Jenkins,  who 
seemed  half-paralyzed  with  fear  and  horror. 

We  squeezed  back  through  the  small  opening,  and 
I  gently  closed  the  door,  and  gripping  Jenkins  by  the 
arm,  marched  him  down  the  stairs  to  my  rooms.  He 
was  trembling  like  a  leaf,  and  scarcely  able  to  stand 
alone. 

"We've  never  had  such  a  thing  happen  before,"  he 
kept  mumbling  helplessly,  over  and  over  again. 

I  bade  him  have  some  whiskey,  if  he  could  find  any, 
and  remain  there  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  staircase,  while 
I  went  across  to  Scotland  Yard;  for,  through  some 
inexplicable  pig-headedness  on  the  part  of  the  police 
authorities,  not  even  the  headquarters  was  on  the 
telephone. 

The  Abbey  bells  were  ringing  for  afternoon  service, 
and  there  were  many  people  about,  churchgoers  and 
holiday  makers  in  their  Sunday  clothes.  The  contrast 
between  the  sunny  streets,  with  their  cheerful  crowds, 
and  the  silent  sinister  tragedy  of  the  scene  I  had  just 
left  struck  me  forcibly. 


A  RED-HAIRED  WOMAN!  49 

If  I  had  sent  Jenkins  on  the  errand,  I  guess  he  would 
have  created  quite  a  sensation.  That  is  why  I  went 
myself;  and  I  doubt  if  any  one  saw  anything  unusual 
about  me,  as  I  threaded  my  way  quietly  through  the 
throng  at  Whitehall  corner,  where  the  'buses  stop  to 
take  up  passengers. 

A  minute  or  two  later  I  was  in  an  inspector's  room 
at  "the  Yard,"  giving  my  information  to  a  little  man 
who  heard  me  out  almost  in  silence,  watching  me 
keenly  the  while. 

I  imagine  that  I  appeared  quite  calm.  I  could  hear 
my  own  voice  stating  the  bald  facts  succinctly,  but, 
to  my  ears,  it  sounded  like  the  voice  of  some  one  else, 
for  it  was  with  a  great  effort  that  I  retained  my  com- 
posure. I  knew  that  this  strange  and  terrible  event 
which  I  had  been  the  one  to  discover  was  only  another 
link  in  the  chain  of  circumstances,  which,  so  far  as  my 
knowledge  went,  began  less  than  twenty-four  hours 
ago;  a  chain  that  threatened  to  fetter  me,  or  the  girl  I 
loved.  For  my  own  safety  I  cared  nothing.  My  one 
thought  was  to  protect  Anne,  who  must  be,  either 
fortuitously,  or  of  her  own  will,  involved  in  this  tangled 
web  of  intrigue. 

I  should,  of  course,  be  subjected  to  cross-examina- 
tion, and,  on  my  way  to  Scotland  Yard,  I  had  decided 
just  what  I  meant  to  reveal.  I  would  have  to  relate 
how  I  encountered  the  old  Russian,  when  he  mistook 
my  flat  for  Cassavetti's ;  but  of  the  portrait  in  his 
possession,  of  our  subsequent  interview,  and  of  the 
incident  of  the  river  steps,  I  would  say  nothing. 

For  the  present  I  merely  stated  how  Jenkins  and  I 
had  discovered  the  fact  that  a  murder  had  been 
committed. 

4 


50  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"I  dined  in  company  with  Mr.  Cassavetti  last  night," 
I  continued.  "But  before  that — " 

I  was  going  to  mention  the  mysterious  Russian ;  but 
my  auditor  checked  me. 

"Half  a  minute,  Mr.  Wynn,"  he  said,  as  he  filled  in 
some  words  on  a  form,  and  handed  it  to  a  police  officer 
waiting  inside  the  door.  The  man  took  the  paper, 
saluted,  and  went  out. 

"  I  gather  that  you  did  not  search  the  rooms  ?  That 
when  you  found  the  man  lying  dead  there,  you  simply 
came  out  and  left  everything  as  it  was  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  saw  at  once  we  could  do  nothing ;  the  poor 
fellow  was  cold  and  rigid." 

I  felt  that  I  spoke  dully,  mechanically;  but  the 
horror  of  the  thing  was  so  strongly  upon  me,  that,  if  I 
had  relaxed  the  self-restraint  I  was  exerting,  I  think  I 
should  have  collapsed  altogether.  This  business-like 
little  official,  who  had  received  the  news  that  a  murder 
had  been  committed  as  calmly  as  if  I  had  merely  told 
him  some  one  had  tried  to  pick  my  pocket,  could  not 
imagine  and  must  not  suspect  the  significance  this 
ghastly  discovery  held  for  me,  or  the  maddening  conjec- 
tures that  were  flashing  across  my  mind. 

"I  wish  every  one  would  act  as  sensibly;  it  would 
save  us  a  lot  of  trouble;"  he  remarked,  closing  his 
note-book,  and  stowing  it,  and  his  fountain  pen,  in 
his  breast-pocket.  "I  will  return  with  you  now;  my 
men  will  be  there  before  we  are,  and  the  divisional 
surgeon  won't  be  long  after  us." 

We  walked  the  short  distance  in  silence;  and  when 
we  turned  the  corner  of  the  street  where  the  block  was 
situated,  I  saw  that  the  news  had  spread,  as  such  news 
always  does,  in  some  unaccountable  fashion,  for  a 


A  RED-HAIRED  WOMAN!  51 

little  crowd  had  assembled,  gazing  at  the  closed  street- 
door,  and  exchanging  comments  and  ejaculations. 

I  pulled  out  my  keys,  but,  for  all  the  self-control  I 
thought  I  was  maintaining,  my  hand  trembled  so  I 
could  not  fit  the  latch-key  into  the  lock. 

"Allow  me,"  said  my  companion,  and  took  the  bunch 
out  of  my  shaking  hand,  just  as  the  door  was  opened 
from  within  by  a  constable  who  had  stationed  himself 
in  the  lobby. 

On  the  top  landing  we  overtook  another  constable, 
and  two  plain-clothes  officers,  to  whom  Jenkins  was 
volubly  asserting  his  belief  that  it  was  none  other  than 
the  assassin  who  had  left  the  door  open  in  the  night. 

The  minute  investigation  that  followed  revealed 
several  significant  facts.  One  was  that  the  assassin 
must  have  been  in  the  rooms  for  some  considerable 
time  before  Cassavetti  returned,  —  to  be  struck  down 
the  instant  he  entered.  The  position  of  the  body,  just 
behind  the  door,  proved  that.  Also  he  was  still  wear- 
ing his  thin  Inverness,  and  his  hat  had  rolled  to  a 
corner  of  the  little  hall.  He  had  not  even  had  time  to 
replace  his  keys  in  his  trousers  pocket;  they  dangled 
loosely  from  their  chain,  and  jingled  as  the  body  was 
lifted  and  moved  to  the  inner  room. 

The  rooms  were  in  great  disorder,  and  had  been 
subjected  to  an  exhaustive  search;  even  the  books 
had  been  tumbled  out  of  their  shelves  and  thrown  on 
the  floor.  But  ordinary  robbery  was  evidently  not  the 
motive,  for  there  were  several  articles  of  value  scattered 
about  the  room ;  nor  had  the  body  been  rifled.  Cassa- 
vetti wore  a  valuable  diamond  ring,  which  was  still  on 
his  finger,  as  his  gold  watch  was  still  in  his  breast- 
pocket ;  it  had  stopped  at  ten  minutes  to  twelve. 


52  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"Run  down,  so  that  shows  nothing,"  the  detective 
remarked,  as  he  opened  it  and  looked  at  the  works. 
"Do  you  know  if  your  friend  carried  a  pocket-book, 
Mr.  Wynn?  He  did?  Then  that's  the  only  thing 
missing.  It  was  papers  they  were  after,  and  I  presume 
they  got  'em  ! " 

That  was  obvious  enough,  for  not  a  scrap  of  written 
matter  was  discovered,  nor  the  weapon  with  which 
the  crime  was  committed. 

"It's  a  fairly  straightforward  case,"  Inspector 
Freeman  said  complacently,  later,  when  the  gruesome 
business  was  over,  and  the  body  removed  to  the  mor- 
tuary. "A  political  affair,  of  course;  the  man  was  a 
Russian  revolutionary  —  we  used  to  call  'em  Nihilists 
a  few  years  ago  —  and  his  name  was  no  more  Cassa- 
vetti  than  mine  is !  Now,  Mr.  Wynn,  you  told  me  you 
knew  him,  and  dined  with  him  last  night.  Do  you  care 
to  give  me  any  particulars,  or  would  you  prefer  to  keep 
them  till  you  give  evidence  at  the  inquest  ? " 

"I'll  give  them  you  now,  of  course,"  I  answered 
promptly.  "I  can't  attend  the  inquest,  for  I'm  leaving 
England  to-morrow  morning." 

"Then  you'll  have  to  postpone  your  journey,"  he 
said  dryly.  "For  you're  bound  to  attend  the  inquest; 
you'll  be  the  most  important  witness.  May  I  ask 
where  you  were  going?" 

I  told  him,  and  he  nodded. 

"So  you're  one  of  Lord  Southbourne's  young  men? 
Thought  I  knew  your  face,  but  could  n't  quite  place 
you,"  he  responded.  "Hope  you  won't  meet  with  the 
same  fate  as  your  predecessor.  A  sad  affair,  that;  we 
got  the  news  on  Friday.  Sounds  like  much  the  same 
sort  of  thing  as  this"  —  he  jerked  his  head  towards 


A  RED-HAIRED  WOMAN!  53 

the  ceiling —  "except  that  Mr.  Carson  was  an  English- 
man, who  never  ought  to  have  mixed  himself  up  with 
a  lot  like  that." 

Again  came  that  expressive  jerk  of  the  head,  and  his 
small  bright  eyes  regarded  me  more  shrewdly  and 
observantly  than  ever. 

"Let  me  give  you  a  word  of  warning,  Mr.  Wynn; 
don't  you  follow  his  example.  Remember  Russia 's 
not  England  — 

"I  know.  I've  been  there  before.  Besides,  my  chief 
warned  me  last  night." 

"  Lord  Southbourne  ?  Just  so ;  he  knows  a  thing  or 
two.  Well,  now  about  Cassavetti — " 

I  was  glad  enough  to  get  back  to  the  point ;  it  was  he 
and  not  I  who  had  strayed  from  it,  for  I  was  anxious 
to  get  rid  of  him. 

I  gave  him  just  the  information  I  had  decided  upon, 
and  flattered  myself  that  I  did  it  with  a  candor  that 
precluded  even  him  from  suspecting  that  I  was  keeping 
anything  back.  To  my  immense  relief  he  refrained 
from  any  questioning,  and  at  the  end  of  my  recital  put 
up  his  pocket-book,  and  rose,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"Well,  you've  given  me  very  valuable  assistance, 
Mr.  Wynn.  Queer  old  card,  that  Russian.  We 
should  n't  have  much  difficulty  in  tracing  him,  though 
you  never  can  tell  with  these  aliens.  They've  as  many 
bolt  holes  as  a  rat.  You  say  he's  the  only  suspicious 
looking  visitor  you  've  ever  seen  here  ? " 

"The  only  one  of  any  kind  I've  encountered  who 
wanted  Cassavetti.  After  all,  I  knew  very  little  of 
him,  and  though  we  were  such  near  neighbors,  I  saw 
him  far  more  often  about  town  than  here." 

"You  never  by  any  chance  saw  a  lady  going  up  to  his 


54  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

rooms,  or  on  the  staircase  as  if  she  might  be  going  up 
there  ?  A  red-haired  woman,  —  or  fair-haired,  anyhow 
—  well-dressed  ?" 

"Never!"!  said  emphatically,  and  with  truth. 
"Why  do  you  ask?" 

"Because  there  was  a  red-haired  woman  in  his  flat 
last  night.  That's  all.  Good  day,  Mr.  Wynn." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  TIMELY  WARNING 

IT  was  rather  late  that  evening  when  I  returned  to  the 
Cayleys ;  for  I  had  to  go  to  the  office,  and  write  my 
report  of  the  murder.  It  would  be  a  scoop  for  the 
"Courier;"  for,  though  the  other  papers  might  get 
hold  of  the  bare  facts,  the  details  of  the  thrilling  story 
I  constructed  were  naturally  exclusive.  I  made  it  pretty 
lurid,  and  put  in  all  I  had  told  Freeman,  and  that  I 
intended  to  repeat  at  the  inquest. 

The  news  editor  was  exultant.  He  regarded  a  Sun- 
day murder  as  nothing  short  of  a  godsend  to  enliven 
the  almost  inevitable  dulness  of  the  Monday  morning's 
issue  at  this  time  of  year. 

"Lucky  you  were  n't  out  of  town,  Wynn,  or  we  should 
have  missed  this,  and  had  to  run  in  with  the  rest,"  he 
remarked  with  a  chuckle. 

Lucky ! 

"Wish  I  had  been  out  of  town,"  I  said  gloomily. 
"It 's  a  ghastly  affair." 

"Get  out!  Ghastly!"  he  ejaculated  with  scorn. 
"Nothing  's  ghastly  to  a  journalist,  so  long  as  it 's 
good  copy  !  You  ought  to  have  forgotten  you  ever  pos- 
sessed any  nerves,  long  ago.  Must  say  you  look  a  bit 
off  color,  though.  Have  a  drink  ?  " 

I  declined  with  thanks.  His  idea  of  a  drink  in  office 
hours,  was,  as  I  knew,  some  vile  whiskey  fetched  from 


56  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

the  nearest  "pub,"  diluted  with  warm,  flat  soda,  and 
innocent  of  ice.  I  'd  wait  till  I  got  to  Chelsea,  where 
I  was  bound  to  happen  on  something  drinkable.  As  a 
good  American,  Mary  scored  off  the  ordinary  British 
housewife,  who  preserves  a  fixed  idea  that  ice  is  a  sin- 
ful luxury,  even  during  a  spell  of  sultry  summer  weather 
in  London. 

I  drove  from  the  office  to  Chelsea,  and  found  Mary 
and  Jim,  with  two  or  three  others,  sitting  in  the  garden. 
The  house  was  one  of  the  few  old-fashioned  ones  left 
in  that  suburb,  redolent  of  many  memories  and  asso- 
ciations of  witty  and  famous  folk,  from  Nell  Gwynn  to 
Thomas  Carlyle;  and  Mary  was  quite  proud  of  her 
garden,  though  it  consisted  merely  of  a  small  lawn 
and  some  fine  old  trees  that  shut  off  the  neighboring 
houses. 

"At  last !  You  very  bad  boy.  We  expected  you  to 
tea,"  said  Mary,  as  I  came  down  the  steps  of  the  little 
piazza  outside  the  drawing-room  windows.  "You 
don't  mean  to  tell  me  you  've  been  packing  all  this 
tune  ?  Why,  goodness,  Maurice ;  you  look  worse  than 
you  did  this  morning  !  You  have  n't  been  committing 
a  murder,  have  you  ?" 

"No,  but  I  've  been  discovering  one,"  I  said  lamely, 
as  I  dropped  into  a  wicker  chair. 

"A  murder !  How  thrilling.  Do  tell  us  all  about  it," 
cried  a  pretty,  kittenish  little  woman  whose  name  I  did 
not  know.  Strange  how  some  women  have  an  abso- 
lutely ghoulish  taste  for  horrors ! 

"Give  him  a  chance,  Mrs.  Vereker,"  interposed 
Jim  hastily,  with  his  accustomed  good  nature.  "He 
has  n't  had  a  drink  yet.  Moselle  cup,  Maurice,  or  a 
long  peg?" 


A  TIMELY  WARNING  57 

He  brought  me  a  tall  tumbler  of  whiskey  and  soda, 
with  ice  clinking  deliciously  in  it;  and  I  drank  it  and 
felt  better. 

"That 's  good,"  I  remarked.  "I  haven't  had  any- 
thing since  I  breakfasted  with  you,  —  forgot  all  about 
it  till  now.  You  see  I  happened  to  find  the  poor  chap 
—  Cassavetti  —  when  I  ran  up  to  say  good-bye  to 
him." 

"Cassavetti!"  cried  Jim  and  Mary  simultaneously, 
and  Mary  added:  "Why,  that  was  the  man  who  sat 
next  us  —  next  Anne  —  at  dinner  last  night,  was  n't 
it  ?  The  man  the  old  Russian  you  told  us  about  came 
to  see?" 

I  nodded. 

"The  police  are  after  him  now;  though  the  old  chap 
seemed  harmless  enough,  and  did  n't  look  as  if  he  'd 
the  physical  strength  to  murder  any  one,"  I  said,  and 
related  my  story  to  a  running  accompaniment  of  ex- 
clamations from  the  feminine  portion  of  my  audience, 
especially  Mrs.  Vereker,  who  evinced  an  unholy  desire 
to  hear  all  the  most  gruesome  details. 

Jim  sat  smoking  and  listening  almost  in  silence,  his 
jolly  face  unusually  grave. 

"This  stops  your  journey,  of  course,  Maurice?"  he 
said  at  length ;  and  I  thought  he  looked  at  me  curiously. 
Certainly  as  I  met  his  eyes  he  avoided  my  gaze  as  if  in 
embarrassment;  and  I  felt  hot  and  cold  by  turns, 
wondering  if  he  had  divined  the  suspicion  that  was 
torturing  me  —  suspicion  that  was  all  but  certainty  — 
that  Anne  Pendennis  was  intimately  involved  in  the 
grim  affair.  He  had  always  distrusted  her. 

"For  a  day  or  two  only.  Even  if  the  inquest  is  ad- 
journed, I  don't  suppose  I'll  have  to  stop  for  the  further 


58  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

hearing,"  I  answered,  affecting  an  indifference  I  was 
very  far  from  feeling. 

"Then  you  won't  be  seeing  Anne  as  soon  as  you  antici- 
pated," Mary  remarked.  "I  must  write  to  her  to- 
morrow. She  '11  be  so  shocked." 

"Did  Miss  Pendennis  know  this  Mr.  Cassavetti?" 
inquired  Mrs.  Vereker. 

"We  met  him  at  the  dinner  last  night  for  the  first 
tune.  Jim  and  Maurice  knew  him  before,  of  course. 
He  seemed  a  very  fascinating  sort  of  man." 

"Where  is  Miss  Pendennis,  by  the  way?"  pursued 
the  insatiable  little  questioner.  "I  was  just  going  to 
ask  for  her  when  Mr.  Wynn  turned  up  with  his  news." 

"Did  n't  I  tell  you  ?  She  left  for  Berlin  this  morn- 
ing; her  father  's  ill.  She  had  to  rush  to  get  away." 

"To  rush !  I  should  think  so,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Vereker.  "Why,  she  was  at  Mrs.  Dennis  Sutherland's 
last  night;  though  I  only  caught  a  glimpse  of  her.  She 
left  so  early ;  I  suppose  that  was  why  — " 

I  stumbled  to  my  feet,  feeling  sick  and  dizzy,  and  up- 
set the  little  table  with  my  glass  that  Jim  had  placed  at 
my  elbow. 

"Sorry,  Mary,  I  'm  always  a  clumsy  beggar,"  I  said, 
forcing  a  laugh.  "I  '11  ask  you  to  excuse  me.  I  must 
get  back  to  the  office.  I  've  to  see  Lord  Southbourne 
when  he  returns.  He  's  been  out  motoring  all  day." 

"Oh,  but  you  '11  come  back  here  and  sleep,"  Mary 
protested.  "You  can't  go  back  to  that  horrible  flat  — " 

"Nonsense!"  I  said  almost  roughly.  "There's 
nothing  wrong  with  the  flat.  Do  you  suppose  I  'm  a 
child  or  a  woman  ?" 

She  ignored  my  rudeness. 

"You  look  very  bad,  Maurice,"  she  responded,  al- 


A  TIMELY  WARNING  59 

most  in  a  whisper,  as  we  moved  towards  the  house.  I 
was  acutely  conscious  that  the  others  were  watching 
my  retreat;  especially  that  inquisitive  little  Vereker 
woman,  whom  I  was  beginning  to  hate.  When  we 
entered  the  dusk  of  the  drawing-room,  out  of  range  of 
those  curious  eyes,  I  turned  on  my  cousin. 

"Mary  —  for  God's  sake  —  don't  let  that  woman  — 
or  any  one  else,  speak  of  —  Anne  —  in  connection  with 
Cassavetti,"  I  said,  in  a  hoarse  undertone. 

"Anne!  Why,  what  on  earth  do  you  mean?"  she 
faltered. 

"He  doesn't  mean  anything,  except  that  he's  con- 
siderably upset,"  said  Jim's  hearty  voice,  close  at  hand. 
He  had  followed  us  in  from  the  garden.  "You  go  back 
to  your  guests,  little  woman,  and  make  'em  talk  about 
anything  in  the  world  except  this  murder  affair.  Try 
frocks  and  frills;  when  Amy  Vereker  starts  on  them 
there  's  no  stopping  her ;  and  if  they  won't  serve,  try 
palmistry  and  spooks  and  all  that  rubbish.  Leave 
Maurice  to  me.  He  's  faint  with  hunger,  and  inclined 
to  make  an  ass  of  himself  even  more  than  usual !  Off 
with  you ! " 

Mary  made  a  queer  little  sound,  that  was  half  a  sob, 
half  a  laugh. 

"All  right;  I  '11  obey  orders  for  once,  you  dear,  wise 
old  Jim.  Make  him  come  back  to-night,  though." 

She  moved  away,  a  slender  ghost-like  little  figure  in 
her  white  gown ;  and  Jim  laid  a  heavy,  kindly  hand  on 
my  shoulder. 

"Buck  up,  Maurice;  come  along  to  the  dining-room 
and  feed,  and  then  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"There  's  nothing  to  tell,"  I  persisted.  "But  I  guess 
you  're  right,  and  hunger  's  what 's  wrong  with  me." 


60 

I  managed  to  make  a  good  meal  —  I  was  desperately 
hungry  now  I  came  to  think  of  it  —  and  Jim  waited 
on  me  solicitously.  He  seemed  somehow  relieved  that 
I  manifested  a  keen  appetite. 

"That 's  better,"  he  said,  as  I  declined  cheese,  and 
lighted  a  cigarette.  "  '  When  in  difficulties  have  a  square 
meal  before  you  tackle  'em' ;  that 's  my  maxim,  — 
original,  and  worth  its  weight  in  gold.  I  give  it  you  for 
nothing.  Now  about  this  affair ;  it 's  more  like  a  melo- 
drama than  a  tragedy.  You  know,  or  suspect,  that 
Anne  Pendennis  is  mixed  up  in  it?" 

"I  neither  know  nor  suspect  any  such  thing,"  I  said 
deliberately.  I  had  recovered  my  self-possession,  and 
the  lie,  I  knew,  sounded  like  truth,  or  would  have  done 
so  to  any  one  but  Jim  Cayley. 

"Then  your  manner  just  now  was  inexplicable,"  he 
retorted  quietly.  "Now,  just  hear  me  out,  Maurice; 
it 's  no  use  trying  to  bluff  me.  You  think  I  am  preju- 
diced against  this  girl.  Well,  I  'm  not.  I  've  always 
acknowledged  that  she 's  handsome  and  fascinating 
to  a  degree,  though,  as  I  told  you  once  before,  she  's  a 
coquette  to  her  finger-tips.  That 's  one  of  her  charac- 
teristics, that  she  can't  be  held  responsible  for,  any 
more  than  she  can  help  the  color  of  her  hair,  which  is 
natural  and  not  touched  up,  like  Amy  Vereker's,  for 
instance!  Besides,  Mary  loves  her;  and  that's  a 
sufficient  proof,  to  me,  that  she  is  '  O  K '  in  one  way. 
You  love  her,  too;  but  men  are  proverbially  fools 
where  a  handsome  woman  is  concerned." 

"What  are  you  driving  at,  Jim?"  I  asked.  At  any 
other  time  I  would  have  resented  his  homily,  as  I  had 
done  before,  but  now  I  wanted  to  find  out  how  much 
he  knew. 


A  TIMELY  WARNING  61 

"A  timely  warning,  my  boy.  I  suspect,  and  you 
know,  or  I  'm  very  much  mistaken,  that  Anne  Pen- 
dennis  had  some  connection  with  this  man  who  is  mur- 
dered. She  pretended  last  night  that  she  had  never 
met  him  before ;  but  she  had,  —  there  was  a  secret 
understanding  between  them.  I  saw  that,  and  so  did 
you;  and  I  saw,  too,  that  her  treatment  of  you  was  a 
mere  ruse,  though  Heaven  knows  why  she  employed  it ! 
I  can't  attempt  to  fathom  her  motive.  I  believe  she 
loves  you,  as  you  love  her;  but  that  she  's  not  a  free 
agent.  She  's  not  like  an  ordinary  English  girl  whose 
antecedents  are  known  to  every  one  about  her.  She, 
and  her  father,  too,  are  involved  in  some  mystery, 
some  international  political  intrigues,  I  'm  pretty  sure, 
as  this  unfortunate  Cassavetti  was.  I  don't  say  that  she 
was  responsible  for  the  murder.  I  don't  believe  she 
was,  or  that  she  had  any  personal  hand  in  it  — " 

I  had  listened  as  if  spellbound,  but  now  I  breathed 
more  freely.  Whatever  his  suspicions  were,  they  did 
not  include  that  she  was  actually  present  when  Cassa- 
vetti was  done  to  death. 

"But  she  was  most  certainly  cognizant  of  it,  and  her 
departure  this  morning  was  nothing  more  or  less  than 
flight,"  he  continued.  "And  —  I  tell  you  this  for  her 
sake,  as  well  as  for  your  own,  Maurice  —  your  manner 
just  now  gave  the  whole  game  away  to  any  one  who  has 
any  knowledge  or  suspicion  of  the  facts.  Man  alive, 
you  profess  to  love  Anne  Pendennis ;  you  do  love  her ; 
I  '11  concede  that  much.  Well,  do  you  want  to  see  her 
hanged,  or  condemned  to  penal  servitude  for  life  ? " 


CHAPTER  IX 

NOT   AT   BERLIN 

"  T  TANGED,  or  condemned  to  penal  servitude  for 

IT     life." 

There  fell  a  dead  silence  after  Jim  Cayley  uttered 
those  ominous  words.  He  waited  for  me  to  speak,  but 
for  a  minute  or  more  I  was  dumb.  He  had  voiced  the 
fear  that  had  been  on  me  more  or  less  vaguely  ever  since 
I  broke  open  the  door  and  saw  Cassavetti's  corpse;  and 
that  had  taken  definite  shape  when  I  heard  Freeman's 
assertion  concerning  "  a  red-haired  woman." 

Any  yet  my  whole  soul  revolted  from  the  horrible,  the 
appalling  suspicion.  I  kept  assuring  myself  passion- 
ately that  she  was,  she  must  be,  innocent ;  I  would  stake 
my  life  on  it! 

Now,  after  that  tense  pause,  I  turned  on  Jim 
furiously. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?    Are  you  mad  ?"  I  demanded. 

"No,  but  I  think  you  are,"  Jim  answered  soberly. 
"I  'm  not  going  to  quarrel  with  you,  Maurice,  or  allow 
you  to  quarrel  with  me.  As  I  told  you  before,  I  am 
only  warning  you,  for  your  own  sake,  and  for  Anne's. 
You  know,  or  suspect  at  least  —  " 

"I  don't!"  I  broke  in  hotly.  "I  neither  know  nor 
suspect  that  —  that  she  —  Jim  Cayley,  would  you  be- 
lieve Mary  to  be  a  murderess,  even  if  all  the  world  de- 
clared her  to  be  one  ?  Would  n't  you  —  " 


NOT  AT  BERLIN  63 

"Stop!"  he  said  sternly.  "You  don't  know  what 
you  're  saying,  you  young  fool !  My  wife  and  Anne 
Pendennis  are  very  different  persons.  Shut  up,  now ! 
I  say  you  've  got  to  hear  me !  I  have  not  accused 
Anne  Pendennis  of  being  a  murderess.  I  don't  be- 
lieve she  is  one.  But  I  do  believe  that,  if  once  suspicion 
is  directed  towards  her,  she  would  find  it  very  diffi- 
cult, if  not  impossible,  to  prove  her  innocence.  You 
ought  to  know  that,  too,  and  yet  you  are  doing  your 
best,  by  your  ridiculous  behavior,  to  bring  suspicion 
to  bear  on  her." 

"I!" 

"  Yes,  you  !  If  you  want  to  save  her,  pull  yourself  to- 
gether, man ;  play  your  part  for  all  it  's  worth.  It 's 
an  easy  part  enough,  if  you  '11  only  dismiss  Anne  Pen- 
dennis from  your  mind;  forget  that  such  a  person 
exists.  You  've  got  to  give  evidence  at  this  inquest. 
Well,  give  it  straightforwardly,  without  worrying  your- 
self about  any  side  issues;  and,  for  Heaven's  sake,  get 
and  keep  your  nerves  under  control,  or  —  " 

He  broke  off,  and  we  both  turned,  as  the  door  opened 
and  a  smart  parlor-maid  tripped  into  the  room. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir.  I  did  n't  know  you  were  here," 
she  said  with  the  demure  grace  characteristic  of  the 
well-trained  English  servant.  "It's  nearly  supper- 
time,  and  I  came  to  see  if  there  was  anything  else 
wanted.  I  laid  the  table  early." 

"  All  right,  Marshall.  I  've  been  giving  Mr.  Wynn 
some  supper,  as  he  has  to  be  off.  You  need  n't  sound 
the  gong  for  a  few  minutes." 

"Very  well,  sir.  If  you  '11  ring  when  you  're  ready, 
I  '11  put  the  things  straight." 

She  retreated  as  quietly  as  she  had  come,  and  I  think 


64  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

we  both  felt  that  her  entrance  and  exit  relieved  the  ten- 
sion of  our  interview. 

I  rose  and  held  out  my  hand. 

"Thanks,  Jim.  I  can't  think  how  you  know  as  much 
as  you  evidently  do ;  but,  anyhow,  I  '11  take  your  ad- 
vice. I  '11  be  off,  now,  and  I  won't  come  back  to-night, 
as  Mary  asked  me  to.  I  'd  rather  be  alone.  See  you 
both  to-morrow.  Good  night." 

I  walked  back  to  Westminster,  lingering  for  a  con- 
siderable time  by  the  river,  where  the  air  was  cool  and 
pleasant.  The  many  pairs  of  lovers  promenading  the 
tree-shaded  Embankment  took  no  notice  of  me,  or  I 
of  them. 

As  I  leaned  against  the  parapet,  watching  the  swift 
flowing  murky  tide,  I  argued  the  matter  out. 

Jim  was  right.  I  had  behaved  like  an  idiot  in  the 
garden  just  now.  Well,  I  would  take  his  advice  and 
buck  up;  be  on  guard.  I  would  do  more  than  that.  I 
would  not  even  vex  myself  with  conjectures  as  to  how 
much  he  knew,  or  how  he  had  come  by  that  knowledge. 
It  was  impossible  to  adopt  one  part  of  his  counsel  — 
impossible  to  "forget  that  such  a  person  as  Anne  Pen- 
dennis  ever  existed ;  "  but  I  would  only  think  of  her  as 
the  girl  I  loved,  the  girl  whom  I  would  see  in  Berlin 
within  a  few  days. 

I  wrote  to  her  that  night,  saying  nothing  of  the 
murder,  but  only  that  I  was  unexpectedly  detained, 
and  would  send  her  a  wire  when  I  started,  so  that  she 
would  know  when  to  expect  me.  Once  face  to  face  with 
her,  I  would  tell  her  everything;  and  she  would  give 
me  the  key  to  the  mystery  that  had  tortured  me  so  ter- 
ribly. But  I  must  never  let  her  know  that  I  had  doubted 
her,  even  for  an  instant ! 


NOT  AT  BERLIN  65 

The  morning  mail  brought  me  an  unexpected  treas- 
ure. Only  a  post-card,  pencilled  by  Anne  herself  in  the 
train,  and  posted  at  Dover. 

It  was  written  in  French,  and  was  brief  enough ;  but, 
for  the  time  being,  it  changed  and  brightened  the  whole 
situation. 

"I  scarcely  hoped  to  see  you  at  the  station,  mon  ami; 
there  was  so  little  time.  What  haste  you  must  have 
made  to  get  there  at  all !  Shall  I  really  see  you  in  Ber- 
lin ?  I  do  want  you  to  know  my  father.  And  you  will 
be  able  to  tell  me  your  plans.  I  don't  even  know  your 
destination !  The  Reichshof ,  where  we  stay,  is  in 
Friedrich  Strasse,  close  to  Unter  den  Linden.  Au 
revoir!  A.  P." 

A  simple  message,  but  it  meant  much  to  me.  I 
regarded  it  as  a  proof  that  her  hurried  journey  was  not 
a  flight,  but  a  mere  coincidence. 

Mary  had  a  post-card,  too,  from  Calais;  just  a  few 
words  with  the  promise  of  a  letter  at  the  end  of  the 
journey.  She  showed  it  to  me  when  I  called  round  at 
Chelsea  on  Monday  evening  to  say  good-bye  once 
more.  The  inquest  opened  that  morning,  and  was  ad- 
journed for  a  week.  Only  formal  and  preliminary  evi- 
dence was  taken  —  my  own  principally ;  and  I  was  able 
to  arrange  to  leave  next  day.  Inspector  Freeman  made 
the  orthodox  statement  that  "the  police  were  in  pos- 
session of  a  clue  which  they  were  following  up;"  and  I 
had  a  chat  with  him  afterwards,  and  tried  to  ferret  out 
about  the  clue,  but  he  was  close  as  wax. 

We  parted  on  the  best  of  terms,  and  I  was  certain  he 
did  not  guess  that  my  interest  in  the  affair  was  more 
than  the  natural  interest  of  one  who  was  as  personally 

5 


66  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

concerned  in  it  as  I  was,  with  the  insatiable  curiosity  of 
the  journalist  superadded.  Whatever  I  had  been  yes- 
terday, I  was  fully  master  of  myself  to-day. 

Jim  was  out  when  I  reached  Chelsea,  somewhat  to 
my  relief;  and  Mary  was  alone  for  once. 

She  welcomed  me  cordially,  as  usual,  and  commended 
my  improved  appearance. 

"I  felt  upset  about  you  last  night,  Maurice;  you 
were  n't  a  bit  like  yourself.  And  what  on  earth  did 
you  mean  in  the  drawing-room  —  about  Anne?"  she 
asked. 

"Sheer  madness,"  I  said,  with  a  laugh.  "Jim  made 
that  peg  too  strong,  and  I  'm  afraid  I  was  —  well,  a 
bit  screwed.  So  fire  away,  if  you  want  to  lecture  me; 
though,  on  my  honor,  it  was  the  first  drink  I  'd  had  all 
day!" 

I  knew  by  the  way  she  had  spoken  that  Jim  had  not 
confided  his  suspicions  to  her.  I  did  n't  expect  he 
would. 

She  accepted  my  explanation  like  the  good  little  soul 
she  is. 

"  I  never  thought  of  that.  It 's  not  like  you,  Maurice. 
But  I  won't  lecture  you  this  time,  though  you  did  scare 
me !  I  guess  you  felt  pretty  bad  after  finding  that  poor 
fellow.  I  felt  shuddery  enough  even  at  the  thought  of 
it,  considering  that  we  knew  him,  and  had  all  been  to- 
gether such  a  little  while  before.  Has  the  murderer 
been  found  yet?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of.  The  inquest 's  adjourned,  and 
I  'm  off  to-morrow.  I  '11  have  to  come  back  if  neces- 
sary ;  but  I  hope  it  won't  be.  Any  message  for  Anne  ? 
I  shall  see  her  on  Wednesday." 

"  No,  only  what  I  've  already  written :  that  I  hope  her 


NOT  AT  BERLIN  67 

father  's  better,  and  that  she  '11  persuade  him  to  come 
back  with  her.  She  was  to  have  stayed  with  us  all 
summer,  as  you  know;  and  I  'm  not  going  to  send  her 
trunks  on  till  she  writes  definitely  that  she  can't  return. 
My  private  opinion  of  Mr.  Pendennis  is  that  he  's  a 
cranky  and  exacting  old  pig!  He  resented  Anne's 
leaving  him,  and  I  surmise  this  illness  of  his  is  only  a 
ruse  to  get  her  back  again.  Anne  ought  to  be  firmer 
with  him!" 

I  laughed.  Mary,  as  I  knew,  had  always  been 
"firm"  with  her  "poppa,"  in  her  girlish  days;  had,  in 
fact,  ruled  him  with  a  rod  of  iron  —  cased  in  velvet, 
indeed,  but  inflexible,  nevertheless ! 

I  started  on  my  delayed  journey  next  morning,  and 
during  the  long  day  and  night  of  travel  my  spirits  were 
steadily  on  the  up-grade. 

Cassavetti,  the  murder,  all  the  puzzling  events  of  the 
last  few  days,  receded  to  my  mental  horizon  —  vanished 
beyond  it  —  as  boat  and  train  bore  me  swiftly  onwards, 
away  from  England,  towards  Anne  Pendennis. 

Berlin  at  last.  I  drove  from  the  Potsdam  station  to 
the  nearest  barber's,  —  I  needed  a  shave  badly,  though 
I  had  made  myself  otherwise  fairly  spick  and  span  in 
the  toilet  car,  —  and  thence  to  the  hotel  Anne  had 
mentioned. 

She  would  be  expecting  me,  for  I  had  despatched  the 
promised  wire  when  I  started. 

"Send  my  card  up  to  Fraulein  Pendennis  at  once," 
I  said  to  the  waiter  who  came  forward  to  receive  me. 

He  looked  at  me  —  at  the  card  —  but  did  not  take  it. 

"Fraulein  Pendennis  is  not  here,"  he  asserted. 
"Herr  Pendennis  has  already  departed,  and  the  Frau- 
lein has  not  been  here  at  all ! " 


CHAPTER  X 

DISQUIETING  NEWS 

I  STARED  at  the  man  incredulously. 
"Herr   Pendennis    has    departed,  and  the  Frau- 
lein  has  not  been    here  at  all!"    I  repeated.     "You 
must  be  mistaken,  man !    The  Fraulein  was  to  arrive 
here  on  Monday,  at  about  this  time." 

He  protested  that  he  had  spoken  the  truth,  and 
summoned  the  manager,  who  confirmed  the  information. 

Yes,  Herr  Pendennis  had  been  unfortunately  in- 
disposed, but  the  sickness  had  not  been  so  severe  as  to 
necessitate  that  the  so  charming  and  dutiful  Fraulein 
should  hasten  to  him.  He  had  a  telegram  received,  — 
doubtless  from  the  Fraulein  herself,  —  and  thereupon 
with  much  haste  departed.  He  drove  to  the  Fried- 
richstrasse  station,  but  that  was  all  that  was  known  of 
his  movements.  Two  letters  had  arrived  for  Miss 
Pendennis,  which  her  father  had  taken,  and  there  was 
also  a  telegram,  delivered  since  he  left. 

Both  father  and  daughter,  it  seemed,  were  well 
known  at  the  hotel,  where  they  always  stayed  during 
their  frequent  visits  to  the  German  capital. 

I  was  keenly  disappointed.  Surely  some  malignant 
fate  was  intervening  between  Anne  and  myself,  deter- 
mined to  keep  us  apart.  Why  had  she  discontinued  her 
journey ;  and  had  she  returned  to  England,  —  to  the 
Cayleys?  If  not,  where  was  she  now?  Unanswerable 
questions,  of  course.  All  I  could  do  was  to  possess 


DISQUIETING   NEWS  69 

my  soul  in  patience,  and  hope  for  tidings  when  I  reached 
my  destination.  And  meanwhile,  by  breaking  my  jour- 
ney here,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  seeing  her,  I  had  in- 
curred a  delay  of  twelve  hours. 

One  thing  at  least  was  certain,  —  her  father  could  not 
have  left  Berlin  for  the  purpose  of  meeting  her  en  route, 
or  he  would  not  have  started  from  the  Friedrichstrasse 
station. 

With  a  rush  all  the  doubts  and  perplexities  that  I  had 
kept  at  bay,  even  since  I  received  Anne's  post-card, 
re-invaded  my  mind ;  but  I  beat  them  back  resolutely. 
I  would  not  allow  myself  to  think,  to  conjecture. 

I  moped  around  aimlessly  for  an  hour  or  two,  telling 
myself  that  Berlin  was  the  beastliest  hole  on  the  face 
of  the  earth.  Never  had  time  dragged  as  it  did  that 
morning !  I  seemed  to  have  been  at  a  loose  end  for  a 
century  or  more  by  noon,  when  I  found  myself  opposite 
the  entrance  of  the  Astoria  Restaurant. 

"When  in  difficulties  —  feed,"  Jim  Cayley  had 
counselled,  and  a  long  lunch  would  kill  an  hour  or 
so,  anyhow. 

I  had  scarcely  settled  myself  at  a  table  when  a  man 
came  along  and  clapped  me  on  the  shoulder. 

"Wynn,  by  all  that's  wonderful.  What  are  you 
doing  here,  old  fellow?" 

It  was  Percy  Medhurst,  a  somewhat  irresponsible, 
but  very  decent  youngster,  whom  I  had  seen  a  good 
deal  of  in  London,  one  way  and  another.  He  was  a 
clerk  in  the  British  Foreign  Office,  but  I  had  n't  the 
least  idea  that  he  had  been  sent  to  Berlin.  He  had 
dined  at  the  Cayleys  only  a  week  or  two  back. 

"I'm  feeding  —  or  going  to  feed.  What  are  you 
doing  here?"  I  responded,  as  we  shook  hands.  I  was 


70  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

glad  to  see  him.  Even  his  usually  frivolous  conversa- 
tion was  preferable  to  my  own  meditations  at  the 
moment. 

"Just  transferred,  regular  stroke  of  luck.  Only  got 
here  last  night;  haven't  reported  myself  for  duty  yet. 
I  say,  old  chap,  you  look  rather  hipped.  What's 
up?" 

"Hunger,"  I  answered  laconically.  "And  I  guess 
that's  easily  remedied.  Come  and  join  me." 

We  talked  of  indifferent  matters  for  a  tune,  or  rather 
he  did  most  of  the  talking. 

"Staying  long?"  he  asked  at  last,  as  we  reached  the 
coffee  and  liqueur  stage.  We  had  done  ourselves  very 
well,  and  I,  at  least,  felt  in  a  much  more  philosophic 
frame  of  mind  than  I  had  done  for  some  hours  past. 

"No,  only  a  few  hours.    I 'm  en  route  for  Petersburg." 

"What  luck;  wish  I  was.  Berlin's  all  right,  of 
course,  but  a  bit  stodgy ;  and  they  're  having  a  jolly  lot 
of  rows  at  Petersburg,  —  with  more  to  come.  I  say, 
though,  what  an  awful  shame  about  that  poor  chap 
Carson.  Have  you  heard  of  it?" 

"Yes;  I'm  going  to  take  his  place.  What  do  you 
know  about  him,  anyhow  ?  " 

"You  are ?  I  did  n't  know  him  at  all ;  but  I  know  a 
fellow  who  was  awfully  thick  with  him.  Met  him  just 
now.  He's  frightfully  cut  up  about  it  all.  Swears 
he'll  hunt  down  the  murderer  sooner  or  later — " 

"Von  Eckhardt  ?    Is  he  here  ?"  I  ejaculated. 

"Yes.  D'  you  know  him  ?  An  awfully  decent  chap, 
—  for  a  German;  though  he's  always  spouting  Shake- 
speare, and  thinks  me  an  ass,  I  know,  because  I  tell 
him  I  've  never  read  a  line  of  him,  not  since  I  left 
Bradfield,  anyhow.  Queer  how  these  German  johnnies 


DISQUIETING   NEWS  71 

seem  to  imagine  Shakespeare  belongs  to  them !  You 
should  have  heard  him  just  now ! 

'  He  was  my  friend,  faithful  and  just  to  me,' 

—  and  raving  about  his  heart  being  in  the  coffin  with 
Caesar;  suppose  he  meant  Carson.  'Pon  my  soul 
I  could  hardly  keep  a  straight  face;  but  I  daren't 
laugh.  He  was  in  such  deadly  earnest." 

I  cut  short  these  irrelevant  comments  on  Von 
Eckhardt's  verbal  peculiarities,  with  which  I  was  per- 
fectly familiar. 

"How  long's  he  here  for?" 

"Don't  know.  Rather  think,  from  what  he  said,  that 
he's  chucked  up  his  post  on  the  Zeitung  — " 

"What  on  earth  for?" 

"How  should  I  know?  I  tell  you  he's  as  mad  as  a 
hatter." 

"Wonder  where  I'd  be  likely  to  find  him;  not  at 
the  Zeitung  office,  if  he's  left.  I  must  see  him  this 
afternoon.  Do  you  know  where  he  hangs  out, 
Medhurst?" 

"With  his  people,  I  believe;  somewhere  in  Charlotten 
Strasse  or  thereabouts.  I  met  him  mooning  about  in 
the  Tiergarten  this  morning." 

I  called  a  waiter  and  sent  him  for  a  directory.  There 
were  scores  of  Von  Eckhardts  in  it,  and  I  decided  to  go 
to  the  Zeitung  office,  and  ascertain  his  address  there. 

Medhurst  volunteered  to  walk  with  me. 

"How  are  the  Cayleys?"  he  asked,  as  we  went 
along.  "Thought  that  handsome  Miss  Pendennis  was 
going  to  stay  with  them  all  the  summer.  By  Jove,  she 
is  a  ripper.  You  were  rather  gone  in  that  quarter, 
were  n't  you,  Wynn  ?" 


72  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

I  ignored  this  last  remark. 

"How  did  you  know  Miss  Pendennis  had  left?"  I 
asked,  with  assumed  carelessness. 

"Why?  Because  I  met  her  at  Ostend  on  Sunday 
night,  to  be  sure.  I  week-ended  there,  you  know. 
Thought  I  'd  have  a  private  bit  of  a  spree,  before  I  had 
to  be  officially  on  the  Spree" 

He  chuckled  at  the  futile  pun. 

"You  saw  Anne  Pendennis  at  Ostend.  Are  you 
certain  it  was  she?"  I  demanded. 

"Of  course  I  am.  She  looked  awfully  fetching,  and 
gave  me  one  of  her  most  gracious  bows — " 

"You  didn't  speak  to  her?"  I  pursued,  throwing 
away  the  cigarette  I  had  been  smoking.  My  teeth  had 
met  in  the  end  of  it  as  I  listened  to  this  news. 

My  ingenuous  companion  seemed  embarrassed  by 
the  question. 

"Well,  no ;  though  I'd  have  liked  to.  But  —  fact  is, 
I  —  well,  of  course,  I  wasn't  alone,  don't  you  know; 
and  though  she  was  a  jolly  little  girl  —  she  —  I 
could  n't  very  well  have  introduced  her  to  Miss  Pen- 
dennis. Anyhow,  I  should  n't  have  had  the  cheek  to 
speak  to  her;  she  was  with  an  awfully  swagger  set. 
Count  Loris  Solovieff  was  one  of  'em.  He's  really  the 
Grand  Duke  Loris,  you  know,  though  he  prefers  to  go 
about  incog,  more  often  than  not.  He  was  talking  to 
Miss  Pendennis.  Here's  the  office.  I  won't  come  in. 
Perhaps  I'll  turn  up  and  see  you  off  to-night.  If  I 
don't,  good-bye  and  good  luck;  and  thanks  awfully 
for  the  lunch." 

I  was  thankful  to  be  rid  of  him.  I  dare  not  question 
him  further.  I  could  not  trust  myself  to  do  so;  for 
his  words  had  summoned  that  black  horde  of  doubts 


DISQUIETING    NEWS  73 

to  the  attack  once  more,  and  this  time  they  would  not 
be  vanquished. 

Small  wonder  that  I  had  not  found  Anne  Pendennis 
at  Berlin  !  What  was  she  doing  at  Ostend,  in  company 
with  "a  swagger  set"  that  included  a  Russian  Grand 
Duke?  I  had  heard  many  rumors  concerning  this 
Loris,  whom  I  had  never  seen ;  rumors  that  were  the 
reverse  of  discreditable  to  him.  He  was  said  to  be 
different  from  most  of  his  illustrious  kinsfolk,  inasmuch 
that  he  was  an  enthusiastic  disciple  of  Tolstoy,  and  had 
been  dismissed  from  the  Court  in  disgrace,  on  account 
of  his  avowed  sympathy  with  the  revolutionists. 

But  what  connection  could  he  have  with  Anne 
Pendennis  ? 

And  she,  —  she  !  Were  there  any  limits  to  her  deceit, 
her  dissimulation  ?  She  was  a  traitress  certainly ; 
perhaps  a  murderess. 

And  yet  I  loved  her,  even  now.  I  think  even  more 
bitter  than  my  disillusion  was  the  conviction  that  I 
must  still  love  her,  though  I  had  lost  her  —  forever ! 


CHAPTER  XI 

"LA  MORT  ou  LA  VIE!'* 

I  TOOK  a  cab  from  the  newspaper  office  to  Von 
Eckhardt's  address,  —  a  flat  in  the  west  end. 

I  found  him,  as  Medhurst  had  reported,  considerably 
agitated.  He  is  a  good-hearted  chap,  and  a  brilliant 
writer,  though  he  's  too  apt  to  allow  his  feelings  to  carry 
him  away ;  for  he  's  even  more  sentimental  than  the 
average  German,  and  entirely  lacking  in  the  charac- 
teristic German  phlegm.  He  is  as  vivacious  and  ex- 
citable as  a  Frenchman,  and  I  fancy  there  's  a  good 
big  dash  of  French  blood  in  his  pedigree,  though  he  'd 
be  angry  if  any  one  suggested  such  a  thing  ! 

He  did  not  know  me  for  a  moment,  but  when  I  told 
him  who  I  was  he  welcomed  me  effusively. 

"Ah,  now  I  remember;  we  met  in  London,  when  I 
was  there  with  my  poor  friend.  '  We  heard  at  midnight 
the  clock,'  as  our  Shakespeare  says.  And  you  are  going 
to  take  his  place  ?  I  have  not  yet  the  shock  recovered 
of  his  death;  from  it  I  never  shall  recover.  O  judg- 
ment, to  brutish  beasts  hast  thou  fled,  and  their  reason 
men  have  lost.  My  heart,  with  my  friend  Carson,  in 
its  coffin  lies,  and  me,  until  it  returns,  you  must  excuse  ! " 

I  surmised  that  he  was  quoting  Shakespeare  again, 
as  he  had  to  Medhurst.  I  wanted  to  smile,  though  I 
was  so  downright  wretched.  He  would  air  what  he 
conceived  to  be  his  English,  and  he  was  funny ! 


"LA  MORT  OU  LA  VIE!"  75 

"Would  you  mind  speaking  German?"  I  asked, 
for  there  was  a  good  deal  I  wanted  to  learn  from  him, 
and  I  guessed  I  should  get  at  it  all  the  sooner  if  I  could 
head  him  off  from  his  quotations.  His  face  fell,  and  I 
hastened  to  add  — 

"Your  English  is  splendid,  of  course,  and  you  've 
no  possible  need  to  practise  it;  but  my  German  's 
rusty,  and  I  'd  be  glad  to  speak  a  bit.  Just  you  pull 
me  up,  if  you  can't  understand  me,  and  tell  me  what 's 
wrong." 

My  German  is  as  good  as  most  folks',  any  day,  but 
he  just  grabbed  at  my  explanation,  and  accepted  it 
with  a  kindly  condescension  that  was  even  funnier  than 
his  sentimental  vein.  Therefore  the  remainder  of  our 
conversation  was  in  his  own  language. 

"I  hear  you  've  left  the  Zeitung"  I  remarked. 
"Going  on  another  paper?" 

"The  editor  of  the  Zeitung  dismissed  me,"  he  an- 
swered explosively.  "Pig  that  he  is,  he  would  not 
understand  the  reason  that  led  to  my  ejection  from 
Russia !" 

"Conducted  to  the  frontier,  and  shoved  over,  eh? 
How  did  that  happen?"  I  asked. 

"Because  I  demanded  justice  on  the  murderers  of 
my  friend,"  he  declared  vehemently.  "I  went  to  the 
chief  of  the  police,  and  he  laughed  at  me.  There  are 
so*  many  murders  in  Petersburg,  and  what  is  one  Eng- 
lishman more  or  less  ?  I  went  to  the  British  Embassy. 
They  said  the  matter  was  being  investigated,  and  they 
emphatically  snubbed  me.  They  are  so  insular,  so 
narrow-minded;  they  could  not  imagine  how  strong 
was  the  bond  of  friendship  between  Carson  and  me. 
He  loved  our  Shakespeare,  even  as  I  love  him." 


76  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"You  wrote  to  Lord  Southbourne,"  I  interrupted 
bluntly.  "And  you  sent  him  a  portrait,  —  a  woman's 
portrait  that  poor  Carson  had  been  carrying  about  in 
his  breast-pocket.  Now  why  did  you  do  that?  And 
who  is  the  woman  ?" 

His  answer  was  startling. 

"I  sent  it  to  him  to  enable  him  to  recognize  her,  and 
warn  her  if  he  could  find  her.  I  knew  she  was  in 
London,  and  hi  danger  of  her  life;  and  I  knew  of  no 
one  whom  I  could  summon  to  her  aid,  as  Carson  would 
have  wished,  except  Lord  Southboume,  and  I  only 
knew  him  as  my  friend's  chief." 

"But  you  never  said  a  word  of  all  this  in  the  note 
you  sent  to  Southbourne  with  the  photograph.  I  know, 
for  he  showed  it  me." 

"That  is  so;  I  thought  it  would  be  safer  to  send  the 
letter  separately;  I  put  a  mere  slip  in  with  the  photo- 
graph." 

Had  Southbourne  received  that  letter  ?  If  so,  why 
had  he  not  mentioned  it  to  me,  I  thought;  but  I  said 
aloud:  "Who  is  the  woman?  What  is  her  name? 
What  connection  had  she  with  Carson?" 

"He  loved  her,  as  all  good  men  must  love  her,  as 
I  myself,  who  have  seen  her  but  once,  —  so  beautiful, 
so  gracious,  so  devoted  to  her  country,  to  the  true  cause 
of  freedom,  —  'a  most  triumphant  lady'  as  our  Sha  — " 

"Her  name,  man;  her  name!"  I  cried  somewhat 
impatiently. 

"She  is  known  under  several,"  he  answered  a  trifle 
sulkily.  "I  believe  her  real  name  is  Anna  Petrovna  — " 

That  conveyed  little;  it  is  as  common  a  name  in 
Russia  as  "Aim  Smith"  would  be  in  England,  and 
therefore  doubtless  a  useful  alias. 


"LA  MORT  OU  LA  VIE!"  77 

"But  she  has  others,  including  two,  what  is  it  you 
call  them  —  neck  names?" 

"Nicknames;  well,  go  on." 

"In  Russia  those  who  know  her  often  speak  of  her 
by  one  or  the  other,  — '  La  Mort,'  or  '  La  Vie,'  it  is 
safer  there  to  use  a  pseudonym.  'La  Mort'  because 
they  say,  —  they  are  superstitious  fools,  —  that  wherever 
she  goes,  death  follows,  or  goes  before;  and  'La  Vie' 
because  of  her  courage,  her  resource,  her  enthusiasm, 
her  so-inspiring  personality.  Those  who  know,  and 
therefore  love  her  most,  call  her  that.  But,  as  I  have 
said,  she  has  many  names,  an  English  one  among 
them;  I  have  heard  it,  but  I  cannot  recall  it.  That  is 
one  of  my  present  troubles." 

"Was  it  'Anne  Pendennis,'  or  anything  like  that?" 
I  asked,  huskily. 

"Ach,  that  is  it;  you  know  her,  then?" 

"Yes,  I  know  her;  though  I  had  thought  her  an 
English  woman." 

"That  is  her  marvel!"  he  rejoined  eagerly.  "  In 
France  she  is  a  Frenchwoman ;  in  Germany  you  would 
swear  she  had  never  been  outside  the  Fatherland;  in 
England  an  English  maiden  to  the  life,  and  in  Russia 
she  is  Russian,  French,  English,  German,  —  American 
even,  with  a  name  to  suit  each  nationality.  That  is 
how  she  has  managed  so  long  to  evade  her  enemies. 
The  Russian  police  have  been  on  her  track  these  three 
years ;  but  they  have  never  caught  her.  She  is  wise  as 
the  serpent,  harmless  as  the  dove — " 

I  had  to  cut  his  rhapsodies  short  once  more. 

"What  is  the  peril  that  threatens  her?  She  was  in 
England  until  recently;  the  Secret  Police  could  not 
touch  her  there?" 


78  THE  RED   SYMBOL 

"  It  is  not  the  police  now.  They  are  formidable,  — 
yes,  —  when  their  grasp  has  closed  on  man  or  woman ; 
but  they  are  incredibly  stupid  in  many  ways.  See  how 
often  she  herself  has  slipped  through  their  fingers ! 
But  this  is  far  more  dangerous.  She  has  fallen  under 
the  suspicion  of  the  League." 

"The  League  that  has  a  red  geranium  as  its  symbol  ? " 

He  started,  and  glanced  round  as  if  he  suspected 
some  spy  concealed  even  in  this,  his  own  room. 

"You  know  of  it  ?"  he  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

"I  have  heard  of  it.    Well,  are  you  a  member  of  it  ?" 

"I?  Gott  in  Himmel,  no!  Why  should  I  myself 
mix  in  these  Russian  politics?  But  Carson  was  in- 
volved with  them,  —  how  much  even  I  do  not  know,  — 
and  she  has  been  one  of  them  since  her  childhood. 
Now  they  say  she  is  a  traitress.  If  possible  they  will 
bring  her  before  the  Five  —  the  secret  tribunal.  Even 
they  do  not  forget  all  she  has  done  for  them ;  and  they 
would  give  her  the  chance  of  proving  her  innocence. 
But  if  she  will  not  return,  they  will  think  that  is  suffi- 
cient proof,  and  they  will  kill  her,  wherever  she  may  be.'* 

"How  do  you  know  all  this?" 

"  Carson  told  me  before  I  left  for  Wilna.  He  meant 
to  warn  her.  They  guessed  that,  and  they  condemned, 
murdered  him !" 

He  began  pacing  up  and  down  the  room,  muttering 
to  himself ;  and  I  sat  trying  to  piece  out  the  matter  in 
my  own  mind. 

"Have  you  heard  anything  of  a  man  called  Cassa- 
vetti;  though  I  believe  his  name  was  Selinski?"  I 
asked  at  length. 

Von  Eckhardt  turned  to  me  open-mouthed. 

"Selinski?    He  is  himself  one  of  the  Five;   he  is  in 


"LA  MORT  OU  LA  VIE!"  79 

London,  has  been  there  for  months;  and  it  is  he  who 
is  to  bring  her  before  the  tribunal,  by  force  or 
guile." 

"He  is  dead,  murdered;  stabbed  to  the  heart  in  his 
own  room,  even  as  Carson  was,  four  days  ago." 

He  sat  down  plump  on  the  nearest  chair. 

"Dead!  That,  at  least,  is  one  of  her  enemies  dis- 
posed of !  That  is  good  news,  splendid  news,  Herr 
Wynn.  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  that  before?  'To  a 
gracious  message  an  host  of  tongues  bestow,'  as  our 
Shakespeare  says.  How  is  it  you  know  so  much  ?  Do 
you  also  know  where  she  is?  I  was  told  she  would 
be  here,  three  days  since;  that  is  why  I  have  waited. 
And  she  has  not  come !  She  is  still  in  England  ?" 

"No,  she  left  on  Sunday  morning.  I  do  not  know 
where  she  is,  but  she  has  been  seen  at  Ostend  with  — 
the  Russian  Grand  Duke  Loris." 

I  hated  saying  those  last  words;  but  I  had  to  say 
them,  for,  though  I  knew  Anne  Pendennis  was  lost  to 
me,  I  felt  a  deadly  jealousy  of  this  Russian,  to  whom, 
or  with  whom  she  had  fled;  and  I  meant  to  find  out 
all  that  Von  Eckhardt  might  know  about  him,  and  his 
connection  with  her. 

"The  Grand  Duke  Loris  !"  he  repeated.  "She  was 
with  him,  openly  ?  Does  she  think  him  strong  enough 
to  protect  her  ?  Or  does  she  mean  to  die  with  him  ? 
For  he  is  doomed  also.  She  must  know  that ! " 

"What  is  he  to  her?" 

I  think  I  put  the  question  quietly;  though  I  wanted 
to  take  him  by  the  throat  and  wring  the  truth  out  of 
him. 

"He?  He  is  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble.  He  loves 
her.  Yes,  I  told  you  that  all  good  men  who  have  but 


80  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

even  seen  her,  love  her;  she  is  the  ideal  of  womanhood. 
One  loves  her,  you  and  I  love  her;  for  I  see  well  that 
you  yourself  have  fallen  under  her  spell !  We  love  her 
as  we  love  the  stars,  that  are  so  infinitely  above  us,  — 
so  bright,  so  remote,  so  adorable !  But  he  loves  her  as 
a  man  loves  a  woman ;  she  loves  him  as  a  woman  loves 
a  man.  And  he  is  worthy  of  her  love !  He  would  give 
up  everything,  his  rank,  his  name,  his  wealth,  willingly, 
gladly,  if  she  would  be  his  wife.  But  she  will  not,  while 
her  country  needs  her.  It  is  her  influence  that  has 
made  him  what  he  is,  —  the  avowed  friend  of  the 
persecuted  people,  ground  down  under  the  iron  heel 
of  the  autocracy.  Yet  it  is  through  him  that  she  has 
fallen  under  suspicion ;  for  the  League  will  not  believe 
that  he  is  sincere;  they  will  trust  no  aristocrat." 

He  babbled  on,  but  I  scarcely  heeded  him.  I  was 
beginning  to  pierce  the  veil  of  mystery,  or  I  thought 
I  was;  and  I  no  longer  condemned  Anne  Pendennis, 
as,  in  my  heart,  I  had  condemned  her,  only  an  hour 
back.  The  web  of  intrigue  and  deceit  that  enshrouded 
her  was  not  of  her  spinning;  it  was  fashioned  on  the 
tragic  loom  of  Fate. 

She  loved  this  Loris,  and  he  loved  her  ?  So  be  it ! 
I  hated  him  in  my  heart;  though,  even  if  I  had  pos- 
sessed the  power,  I  would  have  wrought  him  no  harm, 
lest  by  so  doing  I  should  bring  suffering  to  her.  Hence- 
forth I  must  love  her  as  Von  Eckhardt  professed  to  do, 
or  was  his  protestation  mere  hyperbole?  "As  we  love 
the  stars  —  so  infinitely  above  us,  so  bright,  so  remote  !" 

And  yet  —  and  yet  —  when  her  eyes  met  mine  as 
we  stood  together  under  the  portico  of  the  Cecil,  and 
again  in  that  hurried  moment  of  farewell  at  the  sta- 
tion, surely  I  had  seen  the  love-light  in  them,  "  that 


"LA  MORT  OU  LA  VIE!"  81 

beautiful  look  of  love  surprised,  that  makes  all  women's 
eyes  look  the  same,"  when  they  look  on  their  beloved. 
So,  though  for  one  moment  I  thought  I  had  un- 
ravelled the  tangle,  the  next  made  it  even  more  com- 
plicated than  before.  Only  one  thread  shone  clear,  — 
the  thread  of  my  love. 


CHAPTER  XH 

THE   WRECKED   TRAIN 

I  FOUND  the  usual  polyglot  crowd  assembled  at  the 
Friedrichstrasse  station,  waiting  to  board  the  inter- 
national express  including  a  number  of  Russian  officers, 
one  of  whom  specially  attracted  my  attention.  He  was  a 
splendid  looking  young  man,  well  over  six  feet  in  height, 
but  so  finely  proportioned  that  one  did  not  realize  his 
great  stature  till  one  compared  him  with  others  — 
myself,  for  instance.  I  stand  full  six  feet  in  my  socks, 
but  he  towered  above  me.  I  encountered  him  first  by 
cannoning  right  into  him,  as  I  turned  from  buying 
some  cigarettes.  He  accepted  my  hasty  apologies  with 
an  abstracted  smile  and  a  half  salute,  and  passed  on. 

That  in  itself  was  sufficiently  unusual.  An  ordinary 
Russian  officer,  —  even  one  of  high  rank,  as  this  man's 
uniform  showed  him  to  be,  —  would  certainly  have 
bad-worded  me  for  my  clumsiness,  and  probably  have 
chosen  to  regard  it  as  a  deliberate  insult.  Your  Russian 
as  a  rule  wastes  no  courtesy  on  members  of  his  own  sex, 
while  his  vaunted  politeness  to  women  is  of  a  nature 
that  we  Americans  consider  nothing  less  than  rank 
impertinence;  and  is  so  superficial,  that  at  the  least 
thing  it  will  give  place  to  the  sheer  brutality  that  is 
characteristic  of  nearly  every  Russian  in  uniform. 
Have  I  not  seen  ?  But  pah !  I  won't  write  of  horrors, 
till  I  have  to ! 


THE  WRECKED  TRAIN  83 

Before  I  boarded  the  sleeping  car  I  looked  back 
across  the  platform,  and  saw  the  tall  man  returning 
towards  the  train,  making  his  way  slowly  through  the 
crowd.  A  somewhat  noisy  group  of  officers  saluted 
him  as  he  passed,  and  he  returned  the  salute  mechani- 
cally, with  a  sort  of  preoccupied  air. 

They  looked  after  him,  and  one  of  them  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  said  something  that  evoked  a  chorus  of 
laughter  from  his  companions.  I  heard  it;  though  I 
doubt  if  the  man  who  appeared  to  be  the  object  of  their 
mirth  did.  Anyhow,  he  made  no  sign.  There  was 
something  curiously  serene  and  aloof  about  him. 

"Wonder  who  he  is?"  I  thought,  as  I  sought  my 
berth,  and  turned  in  at  once,  for  I  was  dead  tired. 

I  slept  soundly  through  the  long  hours  while  the 
train  rushed  onwards  through  the  night;  and  did  not 
wake  till  we  were  nearing  the  grim  old  city  of  Konigs- 
berg.  I  dressed,  and  made  my  way  to  the  buffet  car, 
to  find  breakfast  in  full  swing  and  every  table  occupied, 
until  I  reached  the  extreme  end  of  the  car,  where  there 
were  two  tables,  each  with  both  seats  vacant. 

I  had  scarcely  settled  myself  in  the  nearest  seat, 
when  my  shoulder  was  grabbed  by  an  excited  individual, 
who  tried  to  haul  me  out  of  my  place,  vociferating  a 
string  of  abuse,  in  a  mixture  of  Russian  and  German. 

I  resisted,  naturally,  and  indignantly  demanded  an 
explanation.  I  had  to  shout  to  make  myself  heard. 
He  would  not  listen,  or  release  his  hold,  while  with  his 
free  hand  he  gesticulated  wildly  towards  two  soldiers, 
who,  I  now  saw,  were  stationed  at  the  further  door  of 
the  car.  In  an  instant  they  had  covered  me  with  their 
rifles,  and  they  certainly  looked  as  if  they  meant  busi- 
ness. But  what  in  thunder  had  I  done  ? 


84  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

At  that  same  moment  a  man  came  through  the 
guarded  doorway,  —  the  tall  officer  who  had  interested 
me  so  strongly  last  night. 

He  paused,  and  evidently  took  in  the  situation  at  a 
glance. 

"Release  that  gentleman!"   he  commanded  sternly. 

My  captor  obeyed,  so  promptly  that  I  nearly  lost  my 
balance,  and  only  saved  myself  from  an  ignominious 
fall  by  tumbling  back  into  the  seat  from  which  he  had 
been  trying  to  eject  me.  The  soldiers  presented  arms 
to  the  new-comer,  and  my  late  assailant,  all  the  spunk 
gone  out  of  him,  began  to  whine  an  abject  apology 
and  explanation,  which  the  officer  cut  short  with  a 
gesture. 

I  was  on  my  feet  by  this  time,  and,  as  he  turned  to 
me,  I  said  in  French:  "I  offer  you  my  most  sincere 
apologies,  Monsieur.  The  other  tables  were  full,  and 
I  had  no  idea  that  these  were  reserved  — " 

"They  are  not,"  he  interrupted  courteously.  "At 
least  they  were  reserved  in  defiance  of  my  orders;  and 
now  I  beg  you  to  remain,  Monsieur,  and  to  give  me 
the  pleasure  of  your  company." 

I  accepted  the  invitation,  of  course;  partly  because, 
although  it  was  given  so  frankly  and  unceremoniously, 
it  was  with  the  air  of  one  whose  invitations  were  in  the 
nature  of  "commands";  and  also  because  he  now 
interested  me  more  strongly  than  ever.  I  knew  that  he 
must  be  an  important  personage,  who  was  travelling 
incognito;  though  a  man  of  such  physique  could  not 
expect  to  pass  unrecognized.  Seen  in  daylight  he  ap- 
peared even  more  remarkable  than  he  had  done  under 
the  sizzling  arc  lights  of  the  station.  His  face  was  as 
handsome  as  his  figure;  well-featured,  though  the  chin 


THE  WRECKED  TRAIN  85 

was  concealed  by  a  short  beard,  bronze-colored  like  his 
hair,  and  cut  to  the  fashion  set  by  the  present  Tsar. 
His  eyes  were  singularly  blue,  the  clear,  vivid  Scandi- 
navian blue  eyes,  keen  and  far-sighted  as  those  of  an 
eagle,  seldom  seen  save  in  sailor  men  who  have  Norse 
blood  in  their  veins. 

I  wonder  now  that  I  did  not  at  once  guess  his  identity, 
though  he  gave  me  no  clue  to  it. 

When  he  ascertained  that  I  was  an  American, 
who  had  travelled  considerably  and  was  now 
bound  for  Russia,  he  plied  me  with  shrewd 
questions,  which  showed  that  he  had  a  pretty  wide 
knowledge  of  social  and  political  matters  in  most 
European  countries,  though  he  had  never  been  in 
the  States. 

"This  is  your  first  visit  to  Russia?"  he  inquired, 
presently.  "No?" 

I  explained  that  I  had  spent  a  winter  in  Petersburg 
some  years  back,  and  had  preserved  very  pleasant 
memories  of  it. 

"I  trust  your  present  visit  may  prove  as  pleasant," 
he  said  courteously.  "Though  you  will  probably  per- 
ceive a  great  difference.  Not  that  we  are  in  the  constant 
state  of  excitement  described  by  some  of  the  foreign 
papers,"  he  added  with  a  slight  smile.  "  But  Petersburg 
is  no  longer  the  gay  city  it  was,  'Paris  by  the  Neva'  as 
we  used  to  say.  We  — " 

He  checked  himself  and  rose  as  the  train  pulled  up 
for  the  few  minutes'  halt  at  Konigsberg;  and  with  a 
slight  salute  turned  and  passed  through  the  guarded 
doorway. 

"Can  you  tell  me  that  officer's  name?"  I  asked  the 
conductor,  as  I  retreated  to  the  rear  car. 


86  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"You  know  him  as  well  as  I  do,"  he  answered 
ambiguously,  pocketing  the  tip  I  produced. 

"I  don't  know  his  name." 

"Then  neither  do  I,"  retorted  the  man  surlily. 

I  saw  no  more  of  my  new  acquaintance  till  we  reached 
the  frontier,  when,  as  with  the  other  passengers  I  was 
hustled  into  the  apartment  where  luggage  and  pass- 
ports are  examined,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  him  striding 
towards  the  great  grille,  that,  with  its  armed  guard,  is 
the  actual  line  of  demarcation  between  the  two  countries. 
Beside  him  trotted  a  fat  little  man  in  the  uniform  of  a 
staff  officer,  with  whom  he  seemed  to  be  conversing 
familiarly. 

Evidently  he  was  of  a  rank  that  entitled  him  to  be 
spared  the  ordeal  that  awaited  us  lesser  mortals. 

The  tedious  business  was  over  at  last;  and,  once 
through  the  barrier,  I  joined  the  throng  in  the  restau- 
rant, and  looked  around  to  see  if  he  was  among  them. 
He  was  not,  and  I  guessed  he  had  already  gone  on,  — 
by  a  special  train  probably. 

The  long  hot  day  dragged  on  without  any  incident 
to  break  the  monotony.  I  turned  in  early,  and  must 
have  been  asleep  for  an  hour  or  two  when  I  was  vio- 
lently awakened  by  a  terrific  shock  that  hurled  me 
clear  out  of  my  berth. 

I  sat  up  on  the  floor  of  the  car,  wondering  what  on 
earth  could  have  happened.  The  other  passengers 
were  shrieking  and  cursing,  panic-stricken,  though  I 
guess  they  were  more  frightened  than  hurt,  for  the  car 
had  at  least  kept  the  rails.  I  don't  recollect  how  I 
managed  to  reach  the  door,  but  I  found  myself  outside 
peering  through  the  semi-darkness  at  an  appalling 
sight 


35 


. 


THE  WRECKED  TRAIN  87 

The  whole  of  the  front  part  of  the  train  was  a  wreck ; 
the  engine  lay  on  its  side,  belching  fire  and  smoke,  and 
the  cars  immediately  behind  it  were  a  heap  of  wreckage, 
from  which  horrible  sounds  came,  screams  of  mortal 
fear  and  pain.  Even  as  I  stood,  staring,  dazed  like  a 
drunken  man,  a  flame  shot  up  amid  the  piled-up  mass 
of  splintered  wood.  The  wreckage  was  already  afire, 
and  as  I  saw  that,  I  dashed  forward.  Others  were  as 
ready  as  I,  and  in  half  a  minute  we  were  frantically 
hauling  at  the  wreckage,  and  endeavoring  to  extricate 
the  poor  wretches  who  were  writhing  and  shrieking 
under  it,  before  the  fire  should  reach  them. 

A  big  man  worked  silently  beside  me,  and  together 
we  got  out  several  of  the  victims,  till  the  flames  drove 
us  back,  and  we  stood  together,  a  little  away  from  the 
scene,  breathing  hard,  and  incapable  for  the  moment 
of  any  fresh  exertion. 

I  looked  at  him  then  for  the  first  time,  though  I  had 
known  all  along  that  he  was  my  courtly  friend  of  the 
previous  morning.  His  stern  face,  seen  in  the  sinister 
light  of  the  blazing  wreckage,  was  ghastly;  it  was 
smeared  with  the  blood  that  oozed  from  a  wound  across 
his  forehead,  and  his  blue  eyes  were  aflame  with  horror 
and  indignation. 

He  was  evidently  quite  unaware  of  my  presence,  and 
I  heard  him  mutter:  "It  was  meant  for  me!  My 
God !  it  was  meant  for  me !  And  I  have  survived, 
while  these  suffer." 

I  do  not  know  what  instinct  prompted  me  to  look 
behind  at  that  moment,  just  in  time  to  see  that  a  man 
had  stolen  out  from  among  the  pines  in  our  rear,  and 
was  in  the  act  of  springing  on  my  companion. 

"  Gardez  I "   I  cried  warningly,  as  I  saw  the  glint  of 


88  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

an  upraised  knife,  and  flung  myself  on  the  fellow.  As 
if  my  shout  had  been  a  signal,  more  men  swarmed  out 
of  the  forest  and  surrounded  us. 

What  followed  was  confused  and  unreal  as  a  night- 
mare. My  antagonist  was  a  wiry  fellow,  strong  and 
active  as  a  wild  cat;  also  he  had  his  knife,  while  I,  of 
course,  was  unarmed.  He  got  in  a  nasty  slash  with  his 
weapon  before  I  could  seize  and  hold  his  wrist  with  my 
left  hand.  We  wrestled  in  grim  silence,  till  at  last  I  had 
him  down,  with  my  knee  on  his  chest.  I  shifted  my 
hand  from  his  wrist  to  his  throat  and  choked  the  fight 
out  of  him,  anyhow;  then  felt  for  the  knife,  but  he 
must  have  flung  it  from  him,  and  I  had  no  time  to 
search  for  it  among  the  brushwood. 

I  sprang  up  and  looked  for  my  companion.  He  had 
his  back  to  a  tree  and  was  hitting  out  right  and  left  at 
the  ruffians  round  him,  —  like  hounds  about  a  stag  at 
bay. 

"A  moil"  I  yelled  to  those  by  the  train,  who  were 
still  ignorant  of  what  was  happening  so  close  at  hand, 
and  rushed  to  his  assistance.  I  hurled  aside  one  man, 
who  staggered  and  fell ;  dashed  my  fist  in  the  face  of  a 
second ;  he  went  down  too,  but  at  the  same  moment  I 
reeled  under  a  crashing  blow,  and  fell  down  —  down 
—  into  utter  darkness. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    GRAND    DUKE   LORIS 

I  WOKE  with  a  splitting  headache  to  find  myself  lying 
in  a  berth  in  a  sleeping  car ;  the  same  car  in  which 
I  had  been  travelling  when  the  accident  —  or  outrage  — 
occurred;  for  the  windows  were  smashed  and  some  of 
the  woodwork  splintered. 

I  guessed  that  there  were  a  good  many  of  the  injured 
on  board,  for  above  the  rumble  of  the  train,  which  was 
jogging  along  at  a  steady  pace,  I  could  hear  the  groans 
of  the  sufferers. 

I  put  my  hand  up  to  my  head,  and  found  it  swathed 
in  wet  bandages,  warm  to  the  touch,  for  the  heat  in  the 
car  was  stifling. 

A  man  shuffled  along,  and  seeing  that  I  was-  awake, 
went  away,  returning  immediately  with  a  glass  of  iced 
tea,  which  I  drank  with  avidity.  I  noticed  that  both 
his  hands  were  bandaged,  and  he  carried  his  left  arm 
in  a  sling. 

"What  more  can  I  get  the  barin,  now  he  is  recover- 
ing?" he  asked,  in  Russian,  with  sulky  deference. 

"  Where  are  we  going,  —  to  Petersburg  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No.  Back  to  Dunaburg ;  it  will  be  many  hours  be- 
fore the  line  is  restored." 

I  was  not  surprised  to  hear  this,  knowing  of  old  the 
leisurely  way  in  which  Russians  set  about  such  work. 

"  My  master  has  left  me  to  look  after  your  excellency," 
he  continued,  in  the  same  curious  manner,  respectful 


90  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

almost  to  servility  but  sullen  withal.  "What  are  your 
orders?" 

I  guessed  now  that  he  belonged  to  my  tall  friend. 

"  I  want  nothing  at  present.    Who  is  your  master  ?  " 

He  looked  at  me  suspiciously  out  of  the  corners  of  his 
eyes. 

"  Your  excellency  knows  very  well ;  but  if  not  it  is  n't 
my  business  to  say." 

I  did  not  choose  to  press  the  point.  I  could  doubtless 
get  the  information  I  wanted  elsewhere. 

"You  are  a  discreet  fellow,"  I  said  with  a  knowing 
smile,  intended  to  impress  him  with  the  idea  that  I  had 
been  merely  testing  him  by  the  question.  "Well,  at 
least  you  can  tell  me  if  he  is  hurt  ?" 

"No,  praise  to  God,  and  to  your  excellency !"  he  ex- 
claimed, with  more  animation  than  he  had  yet  shown. 
"It  would  have  gone  hard  with  him  if  he  had  been 
alone !  I  was  searching  for  him  among  the  wreckage, 
fool  that  I  was,  till  I  heard  your  excellency  shout ;  and 
then  I  ran  —  we  all  ran  —  and  those  miscreants  fled, 
all  who  could.  We  got  five  and  —  "  he  grinned  fero- 
ciously — "  well,  they  will  do  no  more  harm  in  this 
world !  But  it  is  not  well  for  the  barin  to  talk  much 
yet ;  also  it  is  not  wise." 

He  glanced  round  cautiously  and  then  leaned  over 
me,  and  said  with  his  lips  close  to  my  ear: 

"Your  excellency  is  to  remember  that  you  were  hurt 
in  the  explosion;  nothing  happened  after  that.  My 
master  bade  me  warn  you !  And  now  I  will  summon 
the  doctor,"  he  announced  aloud. 

A  minute  later  a  good-looking,  well-dressed  man 
bustled  along  to  my  side  and  addressed  me  in 
French. 


THE  GRAND  DUKE  LORIS  91 

"Ah,  this  is  better.  Simple  concussion,  that  is  all; 
and  you  will  be  all  right  in  a  day  or  two,  if  you  will  keep 
quiet.  I  wish  I  could  say  that  of  all  my  patients  !  The 
good  Mishka  has  been  keeping  the  bandages  wet  ?  Yes ; 
he  is  a  faithful  fellow,  that  Mishka;  but  you  will  find 
him  surly,  heinf  That  is  because  Count  Solovieff  left 
him  behind  in  attendance  on  you." 

So  that  was  the  name,  —  Count  Solovieff.  Where 
had  I  heard  it  before?  I  remembered  instantly. 

"You  mean  the  Grand  Duke  Loris?"  I  asked 
deliberately. 

His  dark  eyes  twinkled  through  their  glasses. 

"Eh  bien,  it  is  the  same  thing.  He  is  travelling  in- 
cognito, you  understand,  though  he  can  scarcely  expect 
to  pass  unrecognized,  hein?  He  is  a  very  headstrong 
young  man,  Count  Solovieff,  and  he  has  some  miracu- 
lous escapes !  But  he  is  brave  as  a  lion ;  he  will  never 
acknowledge  that  there  is  danger.  Now  you  will  sleep 
again  till  we  reach  Dunaburg.  Mishka  will  be  near 
you  if  you  need  him." 

I  closed  my  eyes,  though  not  to  sleep.  So  this  superb 
young  soldier,  who  had  interested  and  attracted  me  so 
strangely,  was  the  man  whom  Anne  loved !  Well,  he 
was  a  man  to  win  any  woman's  heart ;  I  had  to  acknowl- 
edge that.  I  could  not  even  feel  jealous  of  him  now. 
Von  Eckhardt  was  right.  I  must  still  love  her,  as  one 
infinitely  beyond  my  reach;  as  the  page  loved  the 
queen. 

"  Is  she  wronged  ?     To  the  rescue  of  her  honour 
My  heart ! 

Is  she  poor?     What  costs  it  to  be  styled  a  donor 
Merely  an  earth  to  cleave,  a  sea  to  part. 
But  that  fortune  should  have  thrust  all  this  upon  her ! " 


92  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

Yes,  I  must  for  the  future  "  choose  the  page's  part," 
and,  if  she  should  ever  have  need  of  me,  I  would  serve 
her,  and  take  that  for  my  reward ! 

I  fell  asleep  on  that  thought,  and  only  woke  —  feeling 
fairly  fit,  despite  the  dull  ache  in  my  head  and  the 
throbbing  of  the  flesh  wound  in  my  shoulder  —  when 
we  reached  Dunaburg,  and  the  cars  were  shunted  to  a 
siding. 

Mishka  turned  up  again,  and  insisted  on  valeting  me 
after  a  fashion,  though  I  told  him  I  could  manage  per- 
fectly well  by  myself.  I  had  come  out  of  the  affair  better 
than  most  of  the  passengers,  for  my  baggage  had  been 
in  the  rear  part  of  the  train,  and  by  the  time  I  got  to  the 
hotel,  close  to  the  station,  was  already  deposited  in  the 
rooms  that,  I  found,  had  been  secured  for  me  in  advance. 

I  had  just  finished  the  light  meal  which  was  all  Dr. 
Nabokof  would  allow  me,  when  Mishka  announced 
"Count  Solovieff,"  and  the  Grand  Duke  Loris  entered. 

"Please  don't  rise,  Mr.  Wynn,"  he  said  in  English. 
"  I  have  come  to  thank  you  for  your  timely  aid.  You  are 
better?  That  is  good.  You  got  a  nasty  knock  on  the 
head  just  at  the  end  of  the  fun,  which  was  much  too 
bad  !  It  was  a  jolly  good  fight,  was  n't  it  ?" 

He  laughed  like  a  schoolboy  at  the  recollection;  his 
blue  eyes  shining  with  sheer  glee,  devoid  of  any  trace  of 
the  ferocity  that  usually  marks  a  Russian's  mirth. 

"That's  so,"  I  conceded.  "And  fairly  long  odds; 
two  unarmed  men  against  a  crowd  with  knives  and 
bludgeons.  Why  don't  you  carry  a  revolver,  sir?" 

"I  do,  as  a  rule.     Why  don't  you  ?" 

"Because  I  guess  it  would  have  been  confiscated  at 
the  frontier.  I  'm  a  civilian,  and  —  I  've  been  in  Rus- 
sia before !  But  if  you  'd  had  a  six-shooter  —  " 


THE  GRAND  DUKE  LORIS  93 

"There  would  have  been  no  fight;  they  would  have 
run  the  sooner,  —  all  the  better  for  some  of  them,"  he 
answered,  and  as  he  spoke  the  mirth  passed  from  his 
face,  leaving  it  stern  and  sad.  "  I  ought  to  have  had  a 
revolver,  of  course,  but  I  was  pitched  out  of  bed  without 
any  warning,  as  I  presume  you  were.  By  the  way,  Mr. 
Wynn,  in  the  official  report  no  mention  is  made  of  our 
—  how  do  you  call  it  ? " 

"Scrimmage?"  I  suggested. 

"Ah,  that  is  the  word.  Our  scrimmage.  Your  name 
is  in  the  list  of  those  wounded  by  the  explosion  of  the 
bomb.  It  was  a  bomb,  as  perhaps  you  have  learned. 
Believe  me,  as  you  are  going  to  Petersburg,  and  expect 
to  remain  there  for  some  time,  you  will  be  the  safer  if 
no  one  —  beyond  myself  and  the  few  others  on  the 
spot,  most  of  whom  can  be  trusted  —  knows  that  you 
saved  my  life.  Ah,  yes,  indeed  you  did  that!"  he 
added  quickly,  as  I  made  a  dissentient  gesture.  "I 
could  not  have  kept  them  off  another  minute.  Besides, 
you  saw  them  first,  and  warned  me ;  otherwise  we  should 
both  have  been  done  for  at  once." 

"Do  you  know  who  they  were?"  I  asked. 

He  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders. 

"I  have  my  suspicions,  and  I  do  not  wish  others  to 
be  involved  in  my  affairs,  to  suffer  through  me.  Yet  it 
is  the  others  who  suffer,"  he  continued,  speaking,  as  it 
seemed,  more  to  himself  than  to  me.  "For  I  come 
through  unscathed  every  time,  while  they  —  " 

He  broke  off  and  sat  for  a  minute  or  more  frowning, 
and  biting  his  mustache. 

A  sudden  thought  struck  me.  I  rose  and  crossed  to 
the  French  window  which  stood  open.  Outside  was  a 
small  balcony,  gay  with  red  and  white  flowers.  I  nipped 


94  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

off  a  single  blossom,  closed  the  window,  and  returned  to 
where  he  sat,  watching  my  movements  intently. 

"I,  too,  have  my  suspicions,  sir,"  I  said  significantly. 
"I  wonder  if  they  coincide  with  yours." 

I  laid  the  flower  on  the  table  beside  him,  flattening 
out  the  five  scarlet  petals,  and  resumed  my  seat. 

I  saw  instantly  that  he  recognized  the  symbol,  and 
knew  what  it  meant,  doubtless  better  than  I  did. 

He  glanced  from  it  to  me,  then  round  the  room, 
crossed  to  the  door,  opened  it  quickly,  saw  Mishka 
was  standing  outside,  on  guard,  and  closed  it  again. 

"Now,  who  are  you  and  what  do  you  know?"  he 
asked  quietly.  "Speak  low;  the  very  walls  have  ears." 

"I  know  very  little,  but  I  surmise  —  " 

"It  is  safer  to  surmise  nothing,  Mr.  Wynn.  I  only 
ask  what  you  know ! " 

"Well,  I  know  that  some  member  of  the  League,  the 
organization,  that  this  represents,"  I  pointed  to  the 
flower,  "murdered  an  Englishman." 

"Mr.  Carson,  a  journalist.  You  knew  him?"  he 
exclaimed. 

"Yes,  and  I  am  going  to  Petersburg  as  his  successor." 

"Then  you  have  great  need  to  act  with  more  caution 
than  —  pardon  me  —  you  have  manifested  so  far,"  he 
rejoined.  "Well,  what  more?" 

"One  of  the  heads  of  the  League,  a  man  named 
Selinski,  who  called  himself  Cassavetti,  was  murdered 
in  London  a  week  ago." 

That  startled  him,  I  saw,  though  he  controlled  him- 
self almost  instantly. 

"Are  you  sure  of  that?" 

"I  found  him,"  I  answered,  and  thereupon  gave  him 
the  bare  facts. 


THE  GRAND  DUKE  LORIS  95 

"And  the  English  police,  they  have  the  matter  in 
hand?  Whom  do  they  suspect?"  he  demanded. 

"I  cannot  tell  you,  though  they  say  they  have  a  clue." 

He  paced  to  the  window  and  stood  there  for  a  minute 
or  more  with  his  back  towards  me.  Then  he  returned 
and  looked  down  at  me. 

"I  wonder  why  you  have  told  me  this,  Mr.  Wynn," 
he  said  slowly.  "And  how  you  came  to  connect  me 
with  these  affairs." 

"I  was  told  that  your  Highness  was  also  in  danger, 
and  I  wished  to  warn  you." 

"  I  thank  you.    Who  was  your  informant  ?" 

"  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  say.  But  —  there  is  another 
who  is  also  in  danger." 

I  paused.  My  throat  felt  dry  and  husky  all  at  once; 
my  heart  was  thumping  against  my  ribs.  I  had  told 
myself  that  I  was  not  jealous  of  him,  but  —  it  was  hard 
to  speak  of  her  to  him ! 

He  misconstrued  my  hesitation. 

"You  may  trust  me,  Mr.  Wynn,"  he  said  gravely. 
"This  person,  do  I  know  him?" 

I  stood  up,  resting  my  hand  on  the  table  for  support. 

"It  is  not  a  man.  It  is  the  lady  whom  some  speak  of 
as  La  Mori,  —  others  as  La  Vie." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A   CRY   FOR   HELP 

A  DUSKY  flush  rose  to  his  face,  and  his  blue  eyes 
flashed  ominously.  I  noticed  that  a  little  vein 
swelled  and  pulsed  in  his  temple,  close  by  the  strip  of 
flesh-colored  plaster  that  covered  the  wound  on  his 
forehead. 

But,  although  he  appeared  almost  equally  angry  and 
surprised,  he  held  himself  well  in  hand. 

"Truly  you  seem  in  possession  of  much  information, 
Mr.  Wynn,"  he  said  slowly.  "I  must  ask  you  to  ex- 
plain yourself.  Do  you  know  this  lady  ?" 

"Yes." 

"How  do  you  know  she  is  in  danger?" 

"Chiefly  from  my  own  observation." 

"You  know  her  so  well?"  he  asked  incredulously. 
"Where  have  you  met  her?" 

"In  London." 

The  angry  gleam  vanished  from  his  eyes,  and  he 
stood  frowning  in  perplexed  thought,  resting  one  of  his 
fine,  muscular  white  hands  on  the  back  of  a  tawdry  gilt 
chair. 

"Strange,"  he  muttered  beneath  his  mustache.  "She 
said  nothing.  By  what  name  did  you  know  her  — 
other  than  those  pseudonyms  you  have  mentioned?" 

"Miss  Anne  Pendennis." 

"Ah!" 

I  thought  his  face  cleared. 


A  CRY  FOR  HELP  97 

"And  what  is  this  danger  that  threatens  her?" 
"I  think  you  may  know  that  better  than  I  do,"  I 
retorted,  with  a  glance  at  the  flower  —  the  red  symbol 

—  that  made  a  vivid  blot  of  color  like  a  splash  of  blood 
on  the  white  table-cloth. 

"That  is  true;  although  you  appear  to  know  so 
much.  Therefore,  why  have  you  spoken  of  her  at  all  ?  " 

Again  I  got  that  queer  feeling  in  my  throat. 

"Because  you  love  her!"  I  said  bluntly.  "And  I 
love  her,  too.  I  want  you  to  know  that;  though  I  am 
no  more  to  her  than  —  than  the  man  who  waits  on  her 
at  dinner,  or  who  opens  a  cab  door  for  her  and  gets  a 
smile  and  a  coin  for  his  service !" 

It  was  a  childish  outburst,  perhaps,  but  it  moved 
Loris  Solovieff  to  a  queer  response. 

"I  understand,"  he  said  softly  in  French. 

He  spoke  English  admirably,  but  in  emotional 
moments  he  lapsed  into  the  language  that  is  more  famil- 
iar than  their  mother-tongue  to  all  Russians  of  his  rank. 

"It  is  so  with  us  all.  She  loves  Russia,  —  our 
poor  Russia,  agonizing  in  the  throes  of  a  new  birth; 
while  we  —  we  love  her,  the  woman.  She  will  play  with 
us,  use  us,  fool  us,  even  betray  us,  if  by  so  doing  she 
can  serve  her  country ;  and  we  —  accept  the  situation 

—  are  content  to  serve  her,  to  die  for  her.    Is  that  not 
so,  Monsieur?" 

"That  is  so,"  I  said,  marvelling  at  the  way  in  which 
he  had  epitomized  my  own  ideas,  which,  it  seemed, 
were  his  also.  Yet  Von  Eckhardt  had  asserted  that  she 

—  Anne   Pendennis  —  loved    this   man ;     and    it   was 
difficult  to  think  of  any  woman  resisting  him. 

"Then  we  are  comrades?"  he  cried,  extending  his 
hand,  which  I  gripped  cordially.  "Though  we  were 

7 


98  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

half  inclined  to  be  jealous  of  each  other,  eh  ?  But  that 
is  useless !  One  might  as  well  be  jealous  of  the  sea. 
And  we  can  both  serve  her,  if  she  will  permit  so  much. 
For  the  present  she  is  in  a  place  of  comparative  safety. 
I  shall  not  tell  you  where  it  is,  but  at  least  it  is  many 
leagues  from  Russia;  and  she  has  promised  to  remain 
there,  —  but  who  knows  ?  If  the  whim  seizes  her,  or 
if  she  imagines  her  presence  is  needed  here,  she  will 
return." 

"Yes,  I  guess  she  will,"  I  conceded.  (How  well  he 
understood  her.) 

"She  is  utterly  without  fear,  utterly  reckless  of 
danger,"  he  continued.  "If  she  should  be  lured  back 
to  Russia,  as  her  enemies  on  both  sides  will  endeavor 
to  lure  her,  she  will  be  in  deadly  peril,  from  which  even 
those  who  would  give  their  lives  for  her  may  not  be 
able  to  save  her." 

"At  least  you  can  tell  me  if  her  father  has  joined 
her?"  I  asked. 

"Her  father?  No,  I  cannot  tell  you  that;  simply 
because  I  do  not  know.  But,  as  I  have  said,  so  long  as 
she  remains  in  the  retreat  that  has  been  found  for  her 
she  will  be  safe.  As  for  this  —  "  he  took  up  the  blossom 
and  rubbed  it  to  a  morsel  of  pulp,  between  his  thumb 
and  finger,  "you  will  be  wise  to  conceal  your  knowledge 
of  it,  Mr.  Wynn ;  that  is,  if  you  value  your  life.  And 
now  I  must  leave  you.  We  shall  meet  again  ere  long,  I 
trust.  I  am  summoned  to  Peterhof;  and  I  may  be 
there  for  some  time.  If  you  wish  to  communicate  with 
me—" 

He  broke  off,  and  remained  silent,  in  frowning 
thought,  for  a  few  seconds. 

"I  will  ask  you  this,"  he  resumed.    "If  you  should 


A  CRY  FOR  HELP  99 

have  any  news  of  —  her  —  you  will  send  me  word,  at 
once,  and  in  secret  ?  Not  openly ;  I  am  surrounded  by 
spies,  as  we  all  are  here!  Mishka  shall  remain  here, 
and  accompany  you  to  Petersburg.  He  will  show  you 
where  and  how  you  can  leave  a  message  that  will 
reach  me  speedily  and  infallibly.  For  the  present 
good-bye — and  a  swift  recovery!" 

He  saluted  me,  and  clanked  out  of  the  room.  I 
heard  him  speaking  to  Mishka,  who  had  remained  on 
guard  outside  the  door.  A  minute  or  two  later  there 
was  a  bustle  in  the  courtyard  below,  whence,  for  some 
time  past,  had  sounded  the  monotonous  clank  of  a 
stationary  motor  car. 

I  went  to  the  window,  walking  rather  unsteadily,  for 
I  felt  sick  and  dizzy  after  this  strange  and  somewhat 
exciting  interview.  Two  magnificent  cars  were  in  wait- 
ing, surrounded  by  a  little  crowd  of  officers  in  uniform 
and  soldiers  on  guard.  After  a  brief  interval  the  Grand 
Duke  came  out  of  the  hotel  and  entered  the  first  car, 
followed  by  the  stout  rubicund  officer  I  had  seen  in 
attendance  on  him  at  Wirballen.  A  merry  little  man 
he  seemed,  and  as  he  settled  himself  in  his  seat  he  said 
something  which  drew  a  laugh  from  the  Duke.  Look- 
ing down  at  his  handsome  debonnaire  face,  it  was 
difficult  to  believe  that  he  was  anything  more  than  a 
light-hearted  young  aristocrat,  with  never  a  care  in  the 
world.  And  yet  I  guessed  then  —  I  know  now  —  that 
he  was  merely  bluffing  an  antagonist  in  a  game  that  he 
was  playing  for  grim  stakes,  —  nothing  less  than  life  and 
liberty ! 

Three  days  later  I  arrived,  at  last,  in  Petersburg,  to 
find  letters  from  England  awaiting  me,  —  one  from 
my  cousin  Mary,  to  whom  I  had  already  written, 


100  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

merely  telling  her  that  I  missed  Anne  at  Berlin,  and 
asking  if  she  had  news  of  her.  There  could  be  no 
harm  in  that.  Anne  had  played  her  part  so  well  that, 
though  Jim  had  evidently  suspected  her,  —  I  wondered 
now  how  he  came  to  do  so,  though  I'd  have  to  wait  a 
while  before  I  could  hope  to  ask  him,  —  Mary,  I  was 
certain,  had  not  the  least  idea  that  her  stay  with  them 
was  an  episode  in  a  kind  of  game  of  hide  and  seek. 
To  her  the  visit  was  but  the  fulfilment  of  the  promise 
made  when  they  were  school-girls  together.  And  I 
guessed  that  Anne  would  keep  up  the  deception,  which 
was  forced  upon  her  in  a  way,  and  that  she  would  write 
to  Mary.  She  would  lie  to  her,  directly  or  indirectly; 
that  was  almost  inevitable.  But  she  would  write,  just 
because  she  loved  Mary,  and  therefore  would  not 
willingly  cause  her  anxiety.  I  was  sure  of  that  in  my 
own  mind;  and  I  hungered  for  news  of  her;  even 
second-hand  news.  But  she  had  not  written  ! 

"I  am  so  anxious  about  Anne,"  my  cousin's  letter 
ran.  "We  've  had  no  word  from  her  since  that  post- 
card from  Calais,  and  I  can't  think  why !  She  has  no 
clothes  with  her,  to  speak  of,  for  she  only  took  her 
dressing-bag;  and  I  don't  like  to  send  her  things  on 
till  I  hear  from  her;  besides,  I  hoped  she  would  come 
back  to  us  soon  !  Did  you  see  her  at  Berlin  ?  " 

I  put  the  letter  aside ;  I  could  not  answer  it  at  pres- 
ent. Mary  would  receive  mine  from  Dunaberg,  and 
would  forward  me  any  news  that  might  have  reached 
her  in  the  interval. 

And  meanwhile  I  had  little  to  distract  my  mind. 
Things  were  very  quiet,  stagnant  in  fact,  in  Petersburg 
during  those  hot  days  of  early  summer;  even  the 
fashionable  cafes  in  the  Nevski  Prospekt  were  practically 


A  CRY  FOR  HELP  101 

deserted,  doubtless  because  the  heat,  that  had  set  in 
earlier  than  usual,  had  driven  away  such  of  their  gay 
frequenters  as  were  not  detained  in  the  city  on 
duty. 

I  slept  ill  during  those  hot  nights,  and  was  usually 
abroad  early.  One  lovely  June  morning  my  matutinal 
stroll  led  me,  —  aimlessly  I  thought,  though  who  knows 
what  subtle  influences  may  direct  our  most  seemingly 
purposeless  actions,  and  thereby  shape  our  destiny  — 
along  the  Ismailskai  Prospekt,  —  which,  nearly  a  year 
back,  had  been  the  scene  of  the  assassination  of  De 
Plehve,  the  man  who  for  two  years  had  controlled 
Petersburg  with  an  iron  hand. 

There  were  comparatively  few  people  abroad,  and 
they  were  work-people  on  then*  way  to  business,  and 
vendors  setting  out  their  wares  on  the  stalls  that  line 
the  wide  street  on  either  side. 

Suddenly  a  droshky  dashed  past,  at  a  pace  that 
appeared  even  swifter  than  the  breakneck  rate  at  which 
the  Russian  droshky-driver  loves  to  urge  his  horses 
along.  It  was  evidently  a  private  one,  drawn  by  three 
horses  abreast,  and  I  glanced  at  it  idly,  as  it  clattered 
along  with  the  noise  of  a  fire-engine.  Just  as  it  was 
passing  me  one  of  the  horses  slipped  on  the  cobble- 
stones, and  came  down  with  a  crash. 

There  was  the  usual  moment  of  confusion,  as  the 
driver  objurgated  vociferously,  after  the  manner  of  his 
class,  and  a  man  jumped  out  of  the  vehicle  and  ran 
to  the  horse's  head. 

I  stood  still  to  watch  the  little  incident ;  there  was  no 
need  for  my  assistance,  for  the  clever  little  beast  had 
already  regained  his  footing. 

Then  a  startling  thing  occurred. 


102  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

A  woman's  voice  rang  out  in  an  agonized  cry,  in 
which  fear  and  joy  were  strangely  blended. 

"Maurice!    Maurice  Wynn  !    Help!    Save  me!" 

On  the  instant  the  man  sprang  back  into  the  droshky, 
and  it  was  off  again  on  its  mad  career;  but  in  that 
instant  I  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  white  face,  the 
gleam  of  bright  hair ;  and  knew  that  it  was  Anne  — 
Anne  herself  —  who  had  been  so  near  me,  and  was  now 
being  whirled  away. 

Something  white  fluttered  on  the  cobblestones  at  my 
feet.  I  stooped  and  picked  it  up.  Only  a  handkerchief, 
a  tiny  square  of  embroidered  cambric,  crumpled  and 
soiled,  —  her  handkerchief,  with  her  initials  "A.  P." 
in  the  corner ! 


CHAPTER   XV 

AN  UNPLEASANT  EXPERIENCE 

the  handkerchief  in  my  hand,  I  started 
running  wildly  after  the  fast  disappearing 
droshky,  only  to  fall  plump  into  the  arms  of  a  surly 
gendarme,  a  Muscovite  giant,  who  collared  me  with 
one  hand,  while  he  drew  his  revolver  with  the  other, 
and  brandished  it  as  if  he  was  minded  to  bash  my  face 
hi  with  the  butt  end,  a  playful  little  habit  much  in 
vogue  with  the  Russian  police. 

"Let  me  go.  I  'm  all  right;  I  'm  an  American,"  I 
cried  indignantly.  "I  must  follow  that  droshky!" 

It  was  out  of  sight  by  this  time,  and  he  grunted  con- 
temptuously. But  he  put  up  his  weapon,  and  con- 
tented himself  with  hauling  me  off  to  the  nearest  bureau, 
where,  in  spite  of  my  protestations,  I  was  searched 
from  head  to  foot  roughly  enough,  and  all  the  contents 
of  my  pockets  annexed,  as  well  as  the  handkerchief. 
Then  I  was  unceremoniously  thrust  into  a  filthy  cell, 
and  left  there,  in  a  state  of  rage  and  humiliation  that 
can  be  better  imagined  than  described.  I  seemed  to 
have  been  there  for  half  a  lifetime,  though  I  found  after- 
wards it  was  only  about  two  hours,  when  I  was  fetched 
out,  and  brought  before  the  chief  of  the  bureau,  —  a 
pompous  and  truculent  individual,  with  shifty  bead- 
like  eyes. 

My  belongings  lay  on  the  desk  before  him,  —  with 


104  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

the  exception  of  my  loose  cash,  which  I  never  saw 
again. 

He  began  to  question  me  arrogantly,  but  modified 
his  tone  when  I  asserted  that  I  was  an  American  citizen, 
resident  in  Petersburg  as  representative  of  an  English 
newspaper;  and  reminded  him  that,  if  he  dared  to 
detain  me,  he  would  have  to  reckon  with  both  the  Ameri- 
can and  English  authorities. 

"That  is  all  very  well;  but  you  have  yet  to  explain 
how  you  came  to  be  breaking  the  law,"  he  retorted. 

"What  law  have  I  broken  ?"  I  demanded. 

"You  were  running  away." 

"I  was  not.    I  was  running  after  a  droshky." 

"Why?" 

"Because  there  was  a  woman  hi  it  —  a  lady  —  an 
Englishwoman  or  American,  who  called  out  to  me  to 
help  her." 

"Who  was  the  woman  ?" 

"  How  should  I  know  ?"  I  asked  blandly.  I  remem- 
bered what  Von  Eckhardt  had  told  me,  —  that  the 
police  had  been  on  Anne's  track  for  these  three  years 
past.  If  the  peril  in  which  she  was  now  placed  was 
from  the  revolutionists,  as  it  must  be,  I  could  not  help 
her  by  betraying  her  to  the  police. 

"You  say  she  was  English  or  American  ?  Why  do 
you  say  so?" 

"Because  she  called  out  in  English:  "Help!  Save 
me ! "  I  heard  the  words  distinctly,  and  started  to  run 
after  the  droshky.  Would  n't  you  have  done  the  same 
in  my  place  ?  I  guess  you  're  just  the  sort  of  man  who  'd 
be  first  to  help  beauty  in  distress !" 

This  was  sarcasm  and  sheer  insolence.  I  could  n't 
help  it,  he  looked  such  a  brutal  little  beast !  But  he 


AN  UNPLEASANT  EXPERIENCE       105 

took  it  as  a  compliment,  and  actually  bowed  and 
smirked,  twirling  his  mustache  and  leering  at  me  like 
a  satyr. 

"You  have  read  me  aright,  Monsieur,"  he  said  quite 
amiably.  "So  this  lady  was  beautiful?" 

"Well,  I  can't  say.  I  didn't  really  see  her;  the 
droshky  drove  off  the  very  instant  she  called  out.  One 
of  the  horses  had  been  down,  and  I  was  standing  to 
look  at  it,"  I  explained,  responding  diplomatically  to 
his  more  friendly  mood.  I  wanted  to  get  clear  as  soon 
as  possible,  for  I  knew  that  every  moment  was  precious. 
"  I  just  saw  a  hat  and  some  dark  hair  — " 

"Dark,  eh?     Should  you  know  her  again?" 

"I  guess  not.    I  tell  you  I  did  n't  really  see  her  face.'* 

"How  could  she  know  you  were  an  American  ?" 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders. 

"Perhaps  she  can't  speak  any  language  but  English." 

"What  is  this  ?"  He  held  up  the  handkerchief,  and 
sniffed  at  it.  It  was  faintly  perfumed.  How  well  I 
knew  that  perfume,  sweet  and  elusive  as  the  scent  of 
flowers  on  a  rainy  day. 

"A  handkerchief.  It  fell  at  my  feet,  and  I  picked  it 
up  before  I  started  to  run." 

"It  is  marked  'A.  P.'  Do  you  know  any  one  with 
those  initials?" 

Those  beady  eyes  of  his  were  fixed  on  my  face, 
watching  my  every  expression,  and  I  knew  that  his 
questions  were  dictated  by  some  definite  purpose. 

"Give  me  tune,"  I  said,  affecting  to  rack  my  brains 
in  an  effort  of  recollection.  "I  don't  think,  —  why, 
yes  —  there  was  Abigail  Parkinson,  Job  Parkinson's 
wife,  —  a  most  respectable  old  lady  I  knew  in  the 
States,  —  the  United  States  of  America,  you  know." 


106  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

His  eyes  glinted  ominously,  and  he  brought  his  fat, 
bejewelled  hand  down  on  the  table  with  a  bang. 

"You  are  trifling  with  me !" 

"I'm  not!"  I  assured  him,  with  an  excellent  as- 
sumption of  injured  innocence.  "You  asked  me  if  I 
knew  any  one  with  those  initials,  and  I  'm  telling  you." 

"I  am  not  asking  you  about  old  women  on  the  other 
side  of  the  world  !  Think  again  !  Might  not  the  initials 
stand  for  —  Anna  Petrovna,  for  instance  ?  " 

So  he  had  guessed,  after  all,  who  she  was ! 

"Anna  what  ?  Oh  —  Petrovna.  Why,  yes,  of  course 
they  stand  for  that,  but  it 's  a  Russian  name,  is  n't  it  ? 
And  this  lady  was  English,  or  American  !" 

He  was  silent  for  a  minute,  fingering  the  handker- 
chief, which  I  longed  to  snatch  from  the  contamination 
of  his  touch. 

"A  mistake  has  been  made,  as  I  now  perceive,  Mon- 
sieur," he  said  smoothly,  at  last.  "  I  think  your  release 
might  be  accomplished  without  much  difficulty." 

He  paused  and  looked  hard  at  my  pocket-book. 

"I  guess  if  you  '11  hand  me  that  note  case  it  can  be 
accomplished  right  now,"  I  suggested  cheerfully.  I 
don't  believe  there  's  a  Russian  official  living,  high  or 
low,  who  is  above  accepting  a  bribe,  or  extorting  black- 
mail ;  and  this  one  proved  no  exception  to  the  rule. 

I  passed  him  a  note  worth  about  eight  dollars,  and  he 
grasped  and  shook  my  hand  effusively  as  he  took  it. 

"Now  we  are  friends,  hein?"  he  exclaimed.  "Ac- 
cept my  felicitations  at  the  so  happy  conclusion  of  our 
interview.  You  understand  well  that  duty  must  be 
done,  at  whatever  personal  cost  and  inconvenience. 
Permit  me  to  restore  the  rest  of  your  property,  Monsieur ; 
this  only  I  must  retain."  He  thrust  the  handkerchief 


AN  UNPLEASANT  EXPERIENCE       107 

into  his  desk.  "Perhaps  —  who  knows  —  we  may 
discover  the  fair  owner,  and  restore  it  to  her." 

His  civility  was  even  more  loathsome  to  me  than  his 
insolence  had  been,  and  I  wanted  to  kick  him.  But  I 
did  n't.  I  offered  him  a  cigarette,  instead,  and  we 
parted  with  mutual  bows  and  smiles. 

Once  on  the  street  again  I  walked  away  in  the  oppo- 
site direction  to  that  I  should  have  taken  if  I  had  been 
sure  I  would  not  be  followed  and  watched;  but  I 
guessed  that,  for  the  present  at  least,  I  would  be  kept 
under  strict  surveillance,  and  doubtless  at  this  moment 
my  footsteps  were  being  dogged. 

Therefore  I  made  first  for  the  cafe  where  I  usually 
lunched,  and,  a  minute  after  I  had  seated  myself,  a 
man  in  uniform  strolled  in  and  placed  himself  at  a 
table  just  opposite,  with  his  back  to  me,  but  his  face 
towards  a  mirror,  in  which,  as  I  soon  discovered,  he 
was  watching  my  every  movement. 

"All  right,  my  friend.  Forewarned  is  forearmed; 
I  '11  give  you  the  slip  directly,"  I  thought,  and  went  on 
with  my  meal,  affecting  to  be  absorbed  in  a  German 
newspaper,  which  I  asked  the  waiter  to  bring  me. 

In  the  ordinary  course  I  should  have  met  people  I 
knew,  for  the  cafe  was  frequented  by  most  of  the  for- 
eign journalists  in  Petersburg,  but  the  hour  was  early 
for  dejeuner,  and  the  spy  and  I  had  the  place  to  our- 
selves for  the  present. 

I  knew  that  I  should  communicate  the  fact  that  Anne 
was  in  Petersburg  to  the  Grand  Duke  Loris  as  soon  as 
possible ;  in  the  hope  that  he  might  know  or  guess  who 
were  her  captors,  and  where  they  were  taking  her; 
but  it  was  imperative  that  I  should  exercise  the  utmost 
caution. 


108  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

After  we  reached  Petersburg,  and  before  he  left  me, 
Mishka  had,  as  his  master  had  promised,  given  me  in- 
structions as  to  how  I  was  to  send  a  private  message  to 
the  Duke  in  case  of  necessity.  He  took  me  to  a  house 
in  a  mean  street  near  the  Ismailskaia  Prospekt  —  not 
half  a  mile  from  the  place  where  I  was  arrested  this 
morning  —  of  which  the  ground  floor  was  a  poor  class 
cafe  frequented  chiefly  by  workmen  and  students. 

"You  will  go  to  the  place  I  shall  show  you,"  he  had 
informed  me  beforehand,  "and  call  for  a  glass  of  tea, 
just  like  any  one  else.  Then  as  you  pay  for  it,  you 
drop  a  coin,  —  so.  You  will  pick  it  up,  or  the  waiter 
will,  —  it  is  all  one,  that;  any  one  may  drop  a  coin 
accidentally !  Now,  if  you  were  just  an  ordinary  cus- 
tomer, nothing  more  would  happen ;  the  waiter  would 
keep  near  your  table  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  that  is  all. 
But  if  you  are  on  business  you  will  ask  him,  '  Is  Nicolai 
Stefanovitch  here  to-day  ? '  Or  you  may  say  any  name 
you  think  of,  —  a  common  one  is  best.  He  will  an- 
swer, 'At  what  hour  should  he  be  here?'  and  you  say, 
'I  do  not  know  when  he  returns  —  from  his  work.'  Or 
'from  Wilna,'  or  elsewhere;  that  is  unimportant,  like 
the  name.  But  the  questions  must  be  put  so,  and  there 
must  be  the  pause,  between  the  two  words  *  returns  — 
from '  just  for  one  beat  of  the  clock  as  it  were,  or  while 
one  blows  one's  nose,  or  lights  a  cigarette.  Then  he 
will  know  you  are  one  of  us,  and  will  go  away;  and 
presently  one  will  come  and  sit  at  the  table,  and  say, 
'I  am  so  and  so,  — '  the  name  you  mentioned.  He  will 
drink  his  tea,  and  you  will  go  out  together ;  and  if  it  is 
a  note  you  will  pass  it  to  him,  so  that  none  shall  see; 
or  if  it  is  a  message,  you  will  tell  it  him  very  quietly." 

We  rehearsed  the  shibboleth  in  my  room.     I  did  it 


AN  UNPLEASANT  EXPERIENCE       109 

right  the  first  time,  much  to  Mishka's  satisfaction ;  and 
when  we  reached  the  cafe  he  let  me  be  spokesman. 
Within  three  minutes  a  cadaverous  looking  workman 
in  a  red  blouse  lounged  up  to  our  table,  ordered  his 
glass  of  tea,  nodded  to  me  as  if  I  was  an  old  acquaint- 
ance, and  muttered  the  formula. 

He  and  I  had  gone  out  together,  leaving  Mishka  in 
the  cafe,  —  since  in  Russia  three  men  walking  and 
conversing  together  are  bound  to  be  eyed  suspiciously, 
—  and  my  new  acquaintance  remarked : 

"There  is  no  message,  as  I  know;  this  is  but  a  trial, 
and  you  have  done  well.  If  there  should  be  a  letter,  a 
cigarette,  with  the  tobacco  hanging  a  little  loose  at  each 
end,  — "  he  rolled  one  as  he  spoke  and  made  a  slovenly 
job  of  it,  —  "is  an  excellent  envelope,  and  one  that  we 
understand." 

We  had  separated  at  the  end  of  the  street,  and 
Mishka  rejoined  me  later  at  my  hotel.  But  I  had  not 
needed  to  try  the  shibboleth  since,  though  I  had 
dropped  into  the  cafe  more  than  once,  and  drank  my 
glass  of  tea,  —  without  dropping  a  coin.  And  now  the 
moment  had  come  when  I  must  test  the  method  of 
communication  as  speedily  as  possible. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

UNDER  SURVEILLANCE 

I  PAID  my  bill,  strolled  out,  and  in  the  doorway  en- 
countered a  man  I  knew  slightly  —  a  young  officer  — 
with  whom  I  paused  to  chat,  thereby  blocking  the  door- 
way temporarily,  with  the  result  that  I  found  my  friend 
the  spy  —  as  I  was  now  convinced  he  was  —  at  my 
elbow.  My  unexpected  halt  had  pulled  him  up  short. 

"Pardon!"  I  said  with  the  utmost  politeness,  step- 
ping aside,  so  he  had  to  pass  out,  though  I  guessed  he 
was  angry  enough  at  losing  my  conversation,  for  I  was 
telling  Lieutenant  Mirakoff  of  my  arrest,  —  as  a 
great  joke,  at  which  we  both  laughed  uproariously. 

"They  should  have  seen  that  you  were  a  foreigner, 
and  therefore  quite  mad,  —  and  harmless,"  he  cried. 

"Now,  I  ought  to  call  you  out  for  that !"  I  asserted. 

"At  your  service!"  he  answered,  still  laughing,  as 
we  separated. 

The  spy  was  apparently  deeply  interested  in  the 
contents  of  a  shop  window  near  at  hand,  and  I  went 
off  briskly  in  the  other  direction;  but  in  a  minute  or 
two  later,  when  I  paused,  ostensibly  to  compare  my 
watch  with  a  clock  which  I  had  just  passed,  I  saw,  as 
I  glanced  back,  that  he  was  on  my  track  once  more. 

This  was  getting  serious,  and  I  adopted  a  simple 
expedient  to  give  him  the  slip  for  the  present.  I  hailed 
a  droshky  and  bade  the  fellow  drive  to  a  certain  street, 
not  far  from  that  where  Mishka's  cafe  was  situated. 


UNDER  SURVEILLANCE  111 

We  started  off  at  the  usual  headlong  speed,  and  pres- 
ently, as  we  whirled  round  a  corner,  I  called  on  the 
driver  to  stop,  handed  him  a  fare  that  must  have  rep- 
resented a  good  week's  earnings,  and  ordered  him  to 
drive  on  again  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  for  as  long  as 
his  horse  would  hold  out. 

He  grinned,  "clucked"  to  his  horse,  and  was  off  on 
the  instant,  while  I  turned  into  a  little  shop  close  by, 
whence  I  had  the  satisfaction,  less  than  half  a  minute 
after,  of  seeing  a  second  droshky  dash  past,  in  pursuit 
of  the  first,  with  the  spy  lolling  in  it.  If  my  Jehu  kept 
faith  —  there  was  no  telling  if  he  would  do  that  or 
not,  though  I  had  to  take  the  risk  —  monsieur  le  mou- 
chard  would  enjoy  a  nice  drive,  at  the  expense  of  his 
government ! 

In  five  minutes  I  was  at  the  cafe,  where  I  dropped 
my  coin;  it  rolled  to  a  corner  and  the  waiter  picked 
it  up,  while  I  sipped  my  tea  and  grumbled  at  the 
scarcity  of  lemon.  I  asked  the  prescribed  question 
when  he  restored  the  piece;  and  almost  immediately 
Mishka  himself  joined  me.  This  was  better  than  I 
had  dared  to  hope,  for  I  knew  I  could  speak  to  him 
freely;  in  fact  I  told  him  everything,  including  the 
ruse  by  which  I  had  eluded  my  vigilant  attendant. 

"You  must  not  try  that  again,"  he  said,  in  his  sulky 
fashion.  "  It  has  served  once,  yes ;  but  it  will  not  serve 
again.  When  he  finds  that  you  have  cheated  him  he 
will  make  his  report,  and  then  you  will  have,  not  one, 
but  several  spies  to  reckon  with;  that  is,  if  they  think 
it  worth  while.  Still  you  have  done  well,  —  very  well. 
Now  you  must  wait  until  you  hear  from  my  master." 
Mishka  never  mentioned  a  name  if  he  could  avoid 
doing  so. 


112  THE  RED   SYMBOL 

"But  can't  you  give  me  some  idea  as  to  where  she  is 
likely  to  be?"  I  demanded.  To  wait,  and  continue  to 
act  my  part,  as  if  there  was  no  such  person  as  Anne 
Pendennis  in  the  world  and  in  deadly  peril  was  just 
about  the  toughest  duty  imaginable. 

"I  can  tell  you  nothing,  and  you,  by  yourself,  can 
do  nothing,"  he  retorted  stolidly.  "If  you  are  wise 
you  will  go  about  your  business  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. But  be  in  your  rooms  by  —  nine  o'clock  to- 
night. It  is  unlikely  that  we  can  send  you  any  word 
before  then." 

Nine  o'clock !  And  it  was  now  barely  noon  !  Nine 
mortal  hours;  and  within  their  space  what  might  not 
happen?  But  there  was  no  help  for  it.  Mishka  had 
spoken  the  truth;  by  myself  I  could  do  nothing. 

It  was  hard  —  hard  to  be  bound  like  this,  with  in- 
visible fetters;  and  to  know  all  the  time  that  the  girl 
I  loved  was  so  near  and  yet  so  far,  needing  my  aid, 
while  I  was  powerless  to  help  her,  —  I,  who  would  so 
gladly  lay  down  my  life  for  her. 

Who  was  she?  What  was  she?  How  was  her  fate 
linked  with  that  of  this  great  grim  land,  —  a  land 
"agonizing  in  the  throes  of  a  new  birth?"  If  she  had 
but  trusted  me  in  the  days  when  we  had  been  together, 
could  I  have  saved  her  then?  Have  spared  her  the 
agony  my  heart  told  me  she  was  suffering  now? 

Yes,  —  yes,  I  said  bitterly  to  myself.  I  could  have 
saved  her,  if  she  had  trusted  me;  for  then  she  would 
have  loved  me;  would  have  been  content  to  share  my 
life.  A  roving  life  it  would  have  been,  of  course,  for 
we  were  both  nomads  by  choice  as  well  as  by  chance, 
and  the  nomadic  habit,  once  formed,  is  seldom  broken. 
But  how  happy  we  should  have  been !  Our  wander- 


UNDER  SURVEILLANCE  113 

ings  would  never  have  brought  us  to  Russia,  though. 
Heavens,  how  I  hated  —  how  I  still  hate  it ;  the  greatest 
and  grandest  country  in  the  world,  viewed  under  the 
aspect  of  sheer  land;  a  territory  to  which  even  our 
own  United  States  of  America  counts  second  for  ex- 
tent, for  fertility,  for  natural  wealth  in  wood  and  oil 
and  minerals.  A  country  that  God  made  a  paradise, 
or  at  least  a  vast  storehouse  for  the  supply  of  human 
necessities  and  luxuries;  but  a  country  of  which  man 
has  made  such  a  hell,  that,  in  comparison  with  it, 
Dante's  "Inferno"  reads  like  a  story  of  childish 
imaginings. 

Yes,  Russia  was  a  hell  upon  earth;  and  Petersburg 
was  the  centre  and  epitome  of  it,  I  said  in  my  soul,  as 
I  loitered  on  one  of  the  bridges  that  afternoon,  and 
looked  on  the  swift  flowing  river,  on  the  splendid 
buildings,  gleaming  white,  as  the  gilded  cupolas  and 
spires  of  the  churches  gleamed  fire  red,  under  the 
brilliant  sunshine.  A  fair  city  outwardly,  a  whited 
sepulchre  raised  over  a  charnel-house.  A  city  of  terror, 
wherein  every  man  is  an  Ishmael,  knowing  —  or  sus- 
pecting —  that  every  other  man's  hand  is  against  him. 

There  was  a  shadow  over  the  whole  land,  over 
the  city,  over  myself,  the  stranger  within  its  gate; 
and  in  that  shadow  the  girl  I  loved  was  impenetrably 
enveloped. 

I  raised  my  eyes,  and  there,  fronting  me  across 
the  water,  sternly  menacing,  were  the  gray  walls  of  the 
fortress-prison,  named,  as  if  in  grim  mockery,  the 
fortress  of  "Peter  and  Paul."  Peter,  who  denied  his 
Lord,  though  he  loved  Him;  Paul,  who  denied  his 
Lord  before  he  knew  and  loved  Him!  Perhaps  the 
name  is  not  so  inconsistent,  after  all.  The  deeds  that 

8 


114  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

are  done  behind  the  walls  of  that  fortress-prison  by 
men  who  call  themselves  Christians,  are  the  most  tre- 
mendous denial  of  Christ  that  this  era  has  witnessed. 

Sick  at  heart,  I  turned  away,  and  walked  moodily 
back  to  my  hotel.  The  proprietor  was  in  the  lobby, 
and  the  whole  staff  seemed  to  be  on  the  spot.  They 
all  looked  at  me  as  if  they  thought  I  might  be  some  re- 
cently discovered  wild  animal,  and  I  wondered  why. 
But  as  no  one  spoke  to  me,  I  asked  the  clerk  at  the 
bureau  for  my  key. 

"  I  have  it  not ;  others  —  the  police  —  have  it,"  he 
stammered. 

"Oh,  that  'a  it,  is  it?"  I  said.  "They  're  up  there 
now?  All  right." 

I  went  up  the  stairs  —  there  was  no  elevator  —  and 
found  a  couple  of  soldiers  posted  outside  my  door. 

"Well,  what  are  you  doing  here?"  I  asked,  in  good 
enough  Russian.  "This  is  my  room,  and  I'll  thank 
you  to  let  me  pass." 

The  one  on  the  right  of  the  door  flung  it  open  with  a 
flourish,  and  motioned  me  to  enter. 

As  I  passed  him  he  said,  with  a  laugh  to  his  fellow, 
"So  —  the  rat  goes  into  the  trap ! " 


CHAPTER  XVH 

THE   DROSHKY   DRIVER 

INSIDE  were  two  officials  busily  engaged  in  a  sys- 
tematic search  of  my  effects.  Truly  the  secret 
police  had  lost  no  time ! 

I  had  already  decided  on  the  attitude  I  must  adopt. 
It  was  improbable  that  they  would  arrest  me  openly; 
that  would  have  involved  trouble  with  the  Embassies, 
but  they  could,  if  they  chose,  conduct  me  to  the  frontier 
or  give  me  twenty-four  hours'  notice  to  quit  Russia,  as 
they  had  to  Von  Eckhardt,  and  that  was  the  very  last 
thing  I  desired  just  now. 

"Good  evening,  gentlemen,"  I  said  amiably.  "You 
seem  to  be  pretty  busy  here.  Can  I  give  you  any 
assistance  ?  " 

I  spoke  in  French,  as  I  did  n't  want  to  air  my  Russian 
for  their  edification,  though  I  had  improved  a  good 
deal  in  it. 

One  of  them,  who  seemed  boss,  looked  up  and  said 
brusquely,  though  not  exactly  uncivilly:  "Ah,  Mon- 
sieur, you  have  returned  somewhat  sooner  than  we 
expected.  We  have  a  warrant  to  search  your  apart- 
ment." 

"  That 's  all  right ;  pray  continue,  though  I  give  you 
my  word  you  won't  find  anything  treasonable.  I  'm  a 
foreigner,  as  of  course  you  know ;  and  I  have  n't  the 
least  wish  or  intention  to  mix  myself  up  with  Russian 
affairs." 


116  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"And  yet  you  correspond  with  the  Grand  Duke 
Loris,"  he  said  dryly. 

"I  don't!"  I  answered  promptly.  "I've  never 
written  a  line  to  that  gentleman  in  my  life,  nor  he  to  me." 

"There  are  other  ways  of  corresponding  than  by 
writing,"  he  retorted.  I  guessed  I  had  been  watched 
to  the  cafe  after  all,  but  I  maintained  an  air  of  innocent 
unconcern,  and,  after  all,  his  remark  might  be  merely  a 
"feeler."  I  rather  think  now  that  it  was.  One  can 
never  be  sure  how  much  the  Russian  Secret  Police  do, 
or  do  not,  know ;  and  one  of  their  pet  tricks  is  to  bluff 
people  into  giving  themselves  away. 

So  I  ignored  his  remark,  selected  a  cigarette,  and, 
seeing  that  he  had  just  finished  his  —  I  've  wondered 
sometimes  if  a  Russian  official  sleeps  with  a  cigarette 
between  his  lips,  for  I  fear  he  would  n't  sleep  com- 
fortably without !  —  handed  him  the  case,  with  an  apol- 
ogy for  my  remissness.  He  accepted  both  the  apology 
and  the  cigarette,  and  looked  at  me  hard. 

"I  said,  Monsieur,  that  there  are  other  ways  of 
corresponding  than  by  writing ! "  he  repeated  with 
emphasis. 

"Of  course  there  are,"  I  assented  cheerfully.  "But 
I  don't  see  what  that  has  to  do  with  me  in  the  present 
instance.  I  only  know  the  Grand  Duke  very  slightly. 
I  was  hurt  in  that  railway  accident  last  month,  and  his 
Highness  was  good  enough  to  order  one  of  his  servants 
to  look  after  me ;  and  he  also  called  to  see  me  at  an  hotel 
in  Dunaburg.  I  thought  it  very  condescending  of  him. 
Though  I  don't  suppose  I  '11  have  the  chance  of  meeting 
him  again,  as  there  are  no  Court  festivities  now;  or  if 
there  are,  we  outsiders  are  n't  invited  to  them.  Won't 
your  friend  accept  one  of  my  cigarettes  ?  " 


THE  DROSHKY  DRIVER  117 

This  was  addressed  to  the  other  man,  who  seemed 
to  be  doing  all  the  work,  and  was  puzzling  over  some 
pencil  notes  in  English  which  he  had  picked  out  of  my 
waste-paper  basket.  They  were  the  draft  of  my  yester- 
day's despatch  to  the  Courier,  a  perfectly  innocuous 
communication  that  I  had  sent  openly;  it  did  n't  mat- 
ter whether  it  arrived  at  its  destination  or  not.  As  I 
have  said,  Petersburg  was  quiet  to  stagnation  just  now; 
though  one  never  knew  when  the  material  for  some 
first-class  sensational  copy  might  turn  up. 

"  I  '11  translate  that  for  you  right  now,  if  you  like," 
I  said  politely.  "  Or  you  can  take  it  away  with  you  ! " 

I  think  they  were  both  baffled  by  my  apparent  candor 
and  nonchalance;  but  the  man  who  was  bossing  the 
show  returned  to  the  charge  persistently. 

"Ah,  that  railway  accident.  Yes.  But  surely  you 
have  made  a  slight  mistake,  Monsieur?  You  incurred 
your  injuries,  from  which,  I  perceive,  you  have  so 
happily  recovered." 

He  bowed,  and  I  bowed.  If  I  had  n't  known  all  that 
lay  behind,  this  exchange  of  words  and  courtesy  —  a 
kind  of  fencing,  with  both  of  us  pretending  that  the 
buttons  were  on  the  foils  —  would  have  tickled  me  im- 
mensely. Even  as  it  was  I  could  appreciate  the  funny 
side  of  it.  I  was  playing  a  part  in  a  comedy,  —  a  grim 
comedy,  a  mere  interlude  in  tragedy,  —  but  still  comic. 

"You  incurred  these,  I  say,  not  in  the  accident,  but 
while  gallantly  defending  the  Grand  Duke  from  the 
dastards  who  assailed  him  later!" 

I  worked  up  a  modest  blush ;   or  I  tried  to. 

"  I  see  that  it  is  useless  to  attempt  to  conceal  anything 
from  you,  Monsieur ;  you  know  too  much ! "  I  confessed, 
laughing.  "  But  I 'm  a  modest  man ;  besides,  I  did  n't 


118  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

do  very  much,  and  his  Highness  seemed  quite  capable 
of  taking  care  of  himself." 

I  saw  a  queer  glint  in  his  eyes,  and  I  guessed  then  that 
the  attempt  on  the  life  of  the  Grand  Duke  had  been 
engineered  by  the  police  themselves,  and  not,  as  I  had 
first  imagined,  by  the  revolutionists. 

My  antagonist  waved  his  hand  with  an  airy  gesture 
of  protestation. 

"You  underrate  your  services,  Monsieur  Wynn !  I 
wonder  if  you  would  have  devoted  them  so  readily  to 
his  Highness  if  —  " 

He  paused  portentously. 

"If?"  I  inquired  blandly.  "Do  have  another 
cigarette ! " 

"If  you  had  known  of  his  connection  with  the  woman 
who  is  known  as  La  Mori? 

That  was  n't  precisely  what  he  said.  I  don't  choose 
to  write  the  words  in  any  language;  but  I  wanted  to 
knock  his  yellow  teeth  down  his  throat;  to  choke  the 
life  out  of  him  for  the  vile  suggestion  his  words  con- 
tained !  I  dared  not  look  at  him;  my  eyes  would  have 
betrayed  everything  that  he  was  seeking  to  discover. 
I  looked  at  the  end  of  the  cigarette  I  was  lighting,  and 
wondered  how  I  managed  to  steady  the  hand  that  held 
the  match. 

"I  really  do  not  understand  you!"  I  asserted 
blandly. 

"Perhaps  you  may  know  her  as  Anna  Petrovna ?"  he 
suggested. 

"Anna  Petrovna!"  I  repeated.  "Now,  that's  the 
second  time  to-day  I  've  heard  the  lady's  name;  and  I 
can't  think  why  you  gentlemen  should  imagine  it  means 
anything  to  me.  Who  is  she,  anyhow?" 


THE  DROSHKY  DRIVER  119 

I  looked  at  him  now,  fair  and  square ;  met  and  held 
the  gimlet  gaze  of  his  eyes  with  one  of  calm,  interested 
inquiry.  We  were  fighting  a  duel,  to  which  a  mere 
physical  fight  is  child's  play ;  and  —  I  meant  to  win ! 

"  You  do  not  know  ? "  he  asked. 

"I  do  not;  though  I  'd  like  to.  The  officer  at  the 
bureau  this  morning  —  I  don't  suppose  I  need  tell  you 
that  I  was  arrested  and  detained  for  a  time  —  seemed 
to  think  I  should  know  her ;  but  he  would  n't  give  me 
any  information.  You  've  managed  to  rouse  my  curi- 
osity pretty  smartly  between  you ! " 

"I  fear  it  must  remain  unsatisfied,  Monsieur,  so  far 
as  I  am  concerned,"  he  said  suavely.  "Well,  we  will 
relieve  you  of  our  presence.  I  congratulate  you  on  the 
admirable  order  in  which  you  keep  your  papers." 

His  subordinate  had  risen,  with  an  expressive  shrug 
of  his  shoulders.  I  knew  their  search  must  be  futile, 
since  I  had  fortunately  destroyed  Mary  Cayley's  letter 
the  day  I  received  it ;  and  there  was  nothing  among  my 
papers  referring  either  directly  or  indirectly  to  Anne. 

"You'll  want  to  see  this,  of  course,"  I  suggested, 
tendering  my  passport.  He  glanced  through  it  per- 
functorily, and  handed  it  back  with  a  ceremonious  bow. 
So  far  as  manners  went,  he  certainly  was  an  improve- 
ment on  the  official  at  the  bureau;  and  of  course  he 
already  knew  that  my  personal  papers  were  all  right. 

He  gave  me  a  courteous  "good  evening,"  and  the 
other  man,  who  had  n't  uttered  a  syllable  the  whole 
time,  saluted  me  in  silence.  I  heard  one  of  them  give 
an  order  to  the  guards  outside,  and  then  the  heavy  tramp 
of  their  feet  descending  the  staircase. 

I  started  tidying  up;  it  would  help  to  pass  the  time 
until  I  might  expect  some  message  from  the  Grand 


120  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

Duke.  Mishka  had  said  nine  o'clock,  and  it  was  not 
yet  seven. 

Presently  there  came  a  knock  at  my  door.  I  won- 
dered if  this  might  be  another  police  visitation;  but  it 
was  only  one  of  the  hotel  servants  to  say  a  droshky  driver 
was  below,  demanding  to  see  me.  He  produced  a  dirty 
scrap  of  paper  with  my  name  and  address  scrawled  on 
it,  which  the  man  had  brought.  I  thought  at  once  of 
the  man  who  had  driven  me  in  the  morning,  and  won- 
dered how  on  earth  he  got  my  name  and  address.  I 
was  sure  it  must  be  he  when  I  heard  that  he  declared 
"the  excellency  had  told  him  to  call  for  payment." 
This  was  awkward;  the  fellow  must  be  another  police 
spy,  probably  doing  a  bit  of  blackmailing  on  his  own 
account.  Well,  I  'd  better  see  him,  anyhow.  I  told 
the  man  to  bring  him  up. 

"He  is  a  dangerous  looking  fellow,"  he  demurred. 

"That 's  my  lookout  and  not  yours,"  I  said.  "If  he 
wants  to  see  me  he  's  got  to  come  up.  I  'm  certainly 
not  going  down  to  him." 

He  went  off  unwillingly,  and  a  minute  or  two  later 
returned,  showing  in  my  queer  visitor,  a  big  burly  chap 
who  seemed  civil  and  harmless  enough. 

I  did  n't  think  at  first  sight  he  was  the  man  who  drove 
me,  but  they  all  look  so  much  alike  in  their  filthy  great- 
coats and  low-crowned  hats.  He  had  a  big  grizzled 
beard  and  a  thatch  of  matted  hair,  from  which  his  little 
swinish  eyes  peered  out  with  a  leer.  Yes,  he  looked 
exactly  like  any  other  of  his  class,  but  — 

As  he  entered  behind  the  servant,  touched  his  greasy 
hat,  and  growled  a  guttural  greeting,  he  opened  his  eyes 
full  and  looked  at  me  for  barely  a  second,  but  it  was 
sufficient. 


THE  DROSHKY  DRIVER  121 

"Oh,  it  is  you,  Ivan;  why  didn't  you  send  your 
name  up?"  I  said  roughly.  "How  much  is  it  I  owe 
you  ?  Here,  wait  a  minute ;  as  you  are  here,  you  can 
take  a  message  for  me.  Wait  here  while  I  write  it. 
It 's  all  right;  I  know  the  fellow,"  I  added  to  the  ser- 
vant. "You  needn't  wait." 

He  went  out,  and  for  a  minute  my  visitor  and  I  stood 
silently  regarding  each  other.  His  disguise  was  per- 
fect; I  should  never  have  penetrated  it  but  for  the 
warning  he  had  flashed  from  those  bright  blue  eyes, 
that  now,  leering  and  nearly  closed,  looked  dark  and 
pig-like  again. 

The  droshky  driver  was  the  Grand  Duke  Loris 
himself. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THROUGH   THE   STORM 

I  MOVED  to  the  door  and  locked  it  noiselessly.  I 
dared  not  open  it  to  see  if  the  servant  had  gone,  for 
if  he  had  not  that  would  have  roused  his  suspicions  at 
once.  The  Duke  had  already  crossed  to  the  further 
side  of  the  room,  and  I  joined  him  there. 

He  wasted  no  time  in  preliminaries. 

"Mishka  has  told  me  all,"  he  began,  speaking  in 
English,  though  still  in  the  hoarse  low  growl  appro- 
priate to  his  assumed  character.  "And  I  have  learned 
much  since.  There  is  to  be  a  meeting  to-night,  and  if 
things  are  as  I  suspect  she  will  be  brought  before  the 
tribunal.  We  must  save  her  if  we  can.  Will  you  come  ? 
To  say  it  will  be  at  the  risk  of  your  life  is  to  put  it 
mildly.  It  will  be  a  forlorn  hope." 

"I'll  come;  tell  me  how,"  I  said. 

"You  will  go  to  the  place  where  you  met  Mishka 
to-day,  dine  there,  and  change  your  clothes.  They  will 
have  some  for  you,  and  you  need  not  use  the  formula. 
They  expect  you  already ;  I  knew  you  would  come ! 
Mishka  will  join  you,  and  will  accompany  you  to  the 
rank  where  I  shall  be  waiting  with  my  droshky.  You 
will  hire  me  in  the  usual  way ;  and  we  will  tell  you  my 
plans  when  we  are  clear  of  the  city.  Have  you  any 
weapon?" 

"No." 


THROUGH  THE  STORM  123 

He  felt  in  an  inner  pocket  of  his  filthy  greatcoat  and 
brought  out  a  revolver  and  a  handful  of  spare  cartridges. 

"It's  loaded;  you  can  have  these,  too,  though  if 
there's  any  shooting  I  doubt  if  you'll  have  the  chance 
of  reloading.  Let's  hope  you  won't  fall  in  with  the 
police  for  the  third  time  to-day !  Mishka  will  join  you 
between  nine  and  ten.  We  need  not  start  till  then,  — 
these  light  nights  are  a  drawback,  but  that  cannot 
be  helped.  The  meeting  will  be  held  as  usual,  after 
midnight.  That  is  all  now.  I  must  not  stay  longer. 
Give  me  the  note  you  spoke  of.  A  blank  sheet  — 
anything  —  I  will  destroy  it  immediately." 

I  put  a  sheet  of  note-paper  into  an  envelope,  and 
addressed  it  to  Lieutenant  Mirakoff  at  his  barracks. 
His  was  the  first  name  that  occurred  to  me. 

"You  know  him?"  he  asked,  pointing  to  the  name. 

"Very  slightly." 

He  nodded  and  picked  up  the  note,  holding  it  care- 
fully by  one  corner  between  his  filthy  thumb  and 
finger. 

I  unlocked  the  door  as  quietly  as  I  had  locked  it,  and 
a  moment  later  he  opened  it  noisily  and  backed  out, 
growling  guttural  and  surly  thanks;  backed  right  up 
against  the  servant,  who,  as  we  both  guessed,  was 
waiting  just  outside.  Even  I  was  surprised  at  the 
altercation  that  followed.  A  Russian  droshky  driver 
has  a  bigger  command  of  bad  language  than  any  other 
cabby  in  the  world,  and  the  Grand  Duke  Loris  had 
evidently  studied  his  part  from  life.  He  was  letter 
perfect  in  it ! 

I  strode  to  the  door  and  flung  it  open. 

"Here,  stop  that!"  I  shouted.  "Be  off  with  you, 
Ivan ;  you  impudent  rascal !" 


124  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

He  leered  at  me  and  shambled  off,  but  I  could  hear 
the  coarse  voice  growling  ribaldries  all  the  way  down 
the  staircase. 

It  was  a  masterpiece  of  impersonation  ! 

I  waited  a  while,  till  I  judged  it  safe  to  start  on  the 
first  stage  of  my  expedition.  I  meant  to  take  a  circuitous 
route  to  the  cafe,  in  case  I  was  still  being  watched.  I 
would  run  no  unnecessary  risks,  not  for  my  own  sake, 
but  I  guessed  that  the  success  of  our  enterprise  — 
whatever  it  was  —  would  depend  on  the  exercise  of 
infinite  caution,  at  the  beginning,  anyhow.  I  felt 
strangely  elated,  happier  than  I  had  done  for  many  a 
long  day;  although  I  knew  that  the  worst,  or  almost 
the  worst,  had  come  to  pass,  and  that  Anne  was  here, 
in  the  power  of  her  enemies.  But  we  were  going  to 
save  her,  —  we  would  save  her.  "A  forlorn  hope" 
even  Loris  Solovieff  had  called  it.  Nothing  of  the  kind. 
Could  anything  that  such  a  man  as  he  attempted  be  a 
forlorn  hope;  and  together,  working  loyally  side  by 
side,  what  could  we  not  dare,  and  accomplish  ?  Nothing 
seemed  impossible  to-night. 

"Merely  an  earth  to  cleave,  a  sea  to  part !" 

I  kept  a  wary  lookout  as  I  made  my  way  along  the 
streets,  most  of  them  thronged  at  this  hour  of  the  summer 
evening.  The  air  was  sultry,  and  huge  masses  of  cloud 
were  piling  up,  ominous  of  a  storm  before  long. 

I  reached  the  cafe  eventually  and,  so  far  as  I  knew, 
unobserved,  and  came  out  of  it  an  hour  or  so  later, 
looking,  I  hope,  as  like  a  shabbily  attired  Russian 
student  as  the  Grand  Duke  Loris  looked  like  a  droshky- 
driver,  accompanied  by  a  man  of  the  artisan  type,  who 
might  have  been  my  father,  —  none  other  than  Mishka 
himself. 


THROUGH  THE  STORM  125 

The  sky  was  overcast,  and  already,  above  the  rumble 
of  the  traffic,  one  could  hear  the  mutter  of  distant 
thunder.  It  reminded  me  of  that  eventful  night  in 
London,  little  more  than  a  month  ago,  though  I  had 
seemed  to  live  a  lifetime  since  then. 

"The  storm  comes  soon,"  said  Mishka.  "That  is 
well,  very  well." 

We  came  to  a  rank  where  several  droshkys  were 
standing;  and  he  paused  irresolute,  fumbling  in  his 
pocket. 

"We  will  drive,  Paul,"  he  asserted  aloud,  with  the 
air  of  a  man  who  has  just  decided  to  indulge  in  an 
extravagance.  "Yes,  I  say  we  will;  the  storm  comes 
soon,  and  thy  mother  is  alone." 

He  began  to  haggle,  after  the  usual  fashion,  with  the 
nearest  driver;  and  again  I  marvelled  at  the  Duke's 
disguise;  for  it  was  he,  of  course. 

Once  clear  of  the  city  Mishka  unfolded  the  plan. 

"Presently  we  turn  across  country  and  come  to  a 
house ;  there  we  leave  the  droshky ;  and  there  also  will 
be  horses  for  us  in  readiness  if  we  should  need  them  — 
later.  Thence  we  go  on  foot  through  the  forest  to  the 
meeting-place.  We  must  separate  when  we  get  near  it, 
but  you  will  keep  close  to  Ivan  "  —  we  spoke  always  of 
the  Duke  by  that  name  —  "and  I  will  come  alone. 
You  will  be  challenged,  and  you  will  give  the  word, 
'For  Freedom,'  and  the  sign  I  showed  you.  Give  it 
to  me,  now." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  palm  upwards ;  and  I  touched  it 
with  my  thumb  and  fingers  in  turn ;  five  little  taps. 

"  Good,  you  are  a  quick  learner  —  Paul !  The 
meeting  will  be  in  an  old  chapel,  —  or  so  we  imagine; 
the  place  is  changed  many  times,  but  it  must  be  there, 


126  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

or  in  the  clearing.  Either  way  there  will  be  little  light, 
there  among  the  pines.  That  is  in  our  favor.  If  she 
is  there,  we  shall  know  how  to  act;  we  must  decide 
then.  She  will  be  accused  —  that  is  certain  —  but  the 
five  may  acquit  her.  If  that  comes  to  pass  —  good ; 
we  shall  easily  get  speech  with  her,  and  perhaps  she 
may  return  with  us.  At  least  she  will  be  safe  for  the 
moment.  But  if  they  condemn  her,  we  must  act 
quickly  and  all  together.  We  must  save  her  and  get 
her  away,  —  or  —  die  with  her !" 

"Well  said  !"  growled  "Ivan." 

The  rain  was  pattering  clown  now  in  big  drops,  and 
the  lightning  flashes  were  more  frequent,  the  thunder 
nearer  each  time.  The  horse  shied  as  there  came  a 
more  vivid  flash  than  before,  followed  almost  instantly 
by  a  crackling  roll  —  the  storm  was  upon  us. 

As  the  thunder  ceased,  I  found  "Ivan"  had  pulled 
the  horse  up,  and  was  listening  intently.  I  listened 
also,  and  above  the  faint  tinkle  of  our  bells  and  the 
slight  movements  of  the  horse,  I  heard,  faint,  as  yet, 
but  rapidly  approaching,  the  thud  of  hoofs  and  the 
jangle  of  accoutrements. 

"A  patrol,"  said  "Ivan  "  quickly.  "They  are  coming 
towards  us ;  I  saw  them  by  the  lightning  flash.  They 
will  challenge  us,  and  I  shall  drive  on,  trusting  to  the 
darkness  and  storm.  If  they  follow  —  as  they  probably 
will  —  and  shoot,  you  two  must  seize  your  opportu- 
nity, and  jump.  There  is  just  the  chance  that  they 
may  not  see  you ;  I  shah"  drive  on.  If  I  distance  them, 
I  will  follow  you.  But  we  must  not  all  be  taken,  and 
it  will  be  better  for  me  than  for  you." 

He  started  again  on  the  instant,  and  another  flash 
showed  several  mounted  figures  just  ahead. 


THROUGH  THE  STORM  127 

A  challenge  rang  out,  and  "Ivan's"  reply  was  to  lash 
the  horse  into  a  gallop.  We  charged  through  them, 
and  they  wheeled  after  us,  and  fired.  I  heard  the  "zsp  " 
of  a  bullet  as  it  ripped  through  the  leather  hood  close  to 
my  ear;  but  in  the  darkness  and  confusion  they  fired 
wildly.  And,  for  the  present  at  any  rate,  our  gallant 
little  horse  was  more  than  a  match  for  theirs,  and  was 
distancing  them  rapidly. 

Another  flash,  and  "Now!"  roared  "Ivan,"  above 
the  roar  of  the  thunder.  I  had  already  sprung  up, 
knowing  that  I  must  jump  before  the  next  flash  came ; 
and  Mishka,  as  I  found  afterwards,  did  the  same. 

Steadying  myself  for  a  moment,  I  let  myself  drop, 
stumbled  backward  for  a  few  steps,  fell,  and  rolled  into 
the  ditch,  just  as  the  pursuers  clattered  past,  in  a  whirl- 
wind of  oaths. 

For  the  moment  I,  at  least,  had  escaped ;  but  where 
was  Mishka  ? 


CHAPTER  XIX 

NIGHT   IN  THE   FOREST 

A 5  the  sounds  of  flight  and  pursuit  receded,  I 
crawled  out  of  the  ditch,  and  called  softly  to  my 
companion,  who  answered  me,  from  the  other  side  of 
the  road,  with  a  groan  and  an  oath. 

"I  am  hurt;  it  is  my  leg  —  my  ankle;  I  cannot 
stand,"  he  said  despairingly. 

As  the  lightning  flared  again,  I  saw  his  face  for  a 
moment,  plastered  with  black  mud,  and  furious  with 
pain  and  chagrin.  I  groped  my  way  across  to  him, 
hauled  him  out  of  the  ditch,  and  felt  his  limbs  to  try 
to  ascertain  the  extent  of  his  injury. 

It  might  have  been  worse,  for  there  were  no  broken 
bones,  as  I  had  feared  at  first;  but  he  had  a  badly 
sprained  ankle. 

"Bind  it  —  hard,  with  your  handkerchief,"  he  said, 
between  his  set  teeth.  "We  must  get  out  of  this,  into 
the  wood.  They  will  return  directly." 

His  grit  was  splendid,  for  he  never  uttered  a  sound 
—  though  his  foot  must  have  hurt  him  badly  —  as  I 
helped  him  up.  Supporting  him  as  well  as  I  could, 
we  stumbled  into  the  wood,  groping  our  way  through 
the  darkness,  and  thankful  for  every  flash  that  gave 
us  light,  an  instant  at  a  time,  and  less  dazzling  — 
though  more  dangerous  —  here  under  the  canopy  of 
pine  branches  than  yonder  on  the  open  road. 


NIGHT  IN  THE  FOREST  129 

Even  if  Mishka  had  not  been  lamed,  our  progress 
must  have  been  slow,  for  the  undergrowth  was  thick; 
still,  he  managed  to  get  along  somehow,  leaning  on  me, 
and  dragging  himself  forward  by  grasping  each  slender 
pine  trunk  that  he  lurched  up  against. 

He  sank  down  at  length,  utterly  exhausted,  and,  in 
the  pause  that  followed,  above  the  sound  of  our  labored 
breathing  and  the  ceaseless  patter  of  the  rain  on  the 
pines,  I  heard  the  jangle  of  the  cavalry  patrol  returning 
along  the  road.  Had  "Ivan"  eluded  or  outdistanced 
them  ?  Were  they  taking  him  back  with  them,  a  pris- 
oner; or,  worst  of  all,  had  they  shot  him? 

The  sounds  passed  —  how  close  we  still  were  to  the 
road  ^ —  and  gradually  died  away. 

"He  has  escaped,  thanks  be  to  God !"  Mishka  said, 
in  a  hoarse  whisper. 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"If  they  had  overtaken  him  they  would  have  found 
the  droshky  empty,  and  would  have  sought  us  along 
the  road." 

"  Well,  what  now  ?  How  far  are  we  from  the  meeting- 
place?" 

"Three  versts,  more  or  less.  We  should  have  been 
there  by  this  time !  Come,  let  us  get  on.  Have  you  the 
pocket  lamp?  We  can  use  it  now.  It  will  help  us  a 
little,  and  we  shall  strike  a  track  before  long." 

The  lamp  was  a  little  flash-light  torch  which  I  had 
slipped  into  my  pocket  at  the  last  moment,  and  showed 
to  Mishka  when  I  was  changing  my  clothes.  It  served 
us  well  now,  for  the  lightning  flashes  were  less  frequent; 
the  worst  of  the  storm  was  over. 

I  suppose  we  must  have  gone  about  half  a  verst  — 
say  the  third  of  an  English  mile  —  when  we  found  the 

9 


130  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

track  he  had  mentioned,  a  rough  and  narrow  one, 
trodden  out  by  the  foresters,  and  my  spirits  rose  at  the 
sight  of  it.  At  least  it  must  lead  somewhere ! 

Here  Mishka  stumbled  and  fell  again. 

"It  is  useless.  I  can  go  no  further,  and  I  am  only  a 
hindrance.  But  you  —  what  will  you  do  —  ?" 

"  I  'm  going  on ;  I  '11  find  the  place  somehow." 

"Follow  the  track  till  you  come  to  an  open  space,  — 
a  clearing;  it  is  a  long  way  ahead.  Cross  that  to  your 
right,  and,  if  your  lamp  holds,  or  the  storm  passes,  you 
will  see  a  tree  blazed  with  five  white  marks,  such  as  the 
foresters  make.  There  is  another  track  there;  follow 
it  till  you  are  challenged;  and  the  rest  will  be  easy. 
God  be  with  you." 

We  gripped  hands  and  parted.  I  guessed  we  should 
not  meet  again  in  this  world,  though  we  might  in  the 
next,  —  and  that  pretty  soon ! 

I  pushed  on  rapidly.  The  track,  though  narrow, 
was  good  enough,  and  I  only  had  to  flash  my  torch  oc- 
casionally. I  was  afraid  of  the  battery  giving  out, 
which,  as  a  fact,  it  did  before  I  emerged  in  the  clearing 
Mishka  had  mentioned.  But  the  light  was  better  now, 
for  the  storm  had  passed ;  and  in  this  northern  latitude 
there  is  no  real  night  in  summer,  only  "the  daylight 
sick,"  as  Von  Eckhardt  would  say.  Out  in  the  clearing 
I  could  see  quite  a  distance.  The  air  felt  fresh  and 
pleasant  and  the  patch  of  sky  overhead  was  an  exquisite 
topaz  tint.  I  stood  to  draw  breath,  and  for  a  moment 
the  sheer  splendor  of  the  night,  —  the  solemn  silence, 
—  held  me  spellbound  with  some  strange  emotion  in 
which  awe  and  joy  were  mingled.  Yes,  joy!  For  al- 
though I  had  lost  my  two  good  comrades,  and  was  un- 
dertaking, alone,  a  task  which  could  scarcely  have 


NIGHT  IN  THE  FOREST  131 

been  accomplished  by  three  desperate  men,  my  heart 
was  light.  I  had  little  hope,  now,  of  saving  Anne,  as 
we  reckon  salvation  in  this  poor  earth-life;  but  I  could, 
and  would,  die  with  and  for  her;  and  together,  hand 
in  hand,  we  would  pass  to  the  fuller,  freer  life  beyond, 
where  the  mystery  that  encompassed  her,  and  that  had 
separated  us,  would  vanish. 

I  was  about  to  cross  the  clearing,  keeping  to  the  right 
and  seeking  for  the  blazed  tree,  as  Mishka  had  told  me, 
when  I  heard  the  faint  sound  of  stealthy  footsteps 
through  the  wet  grass  that  grew  tall  and  rank  here  in 
the  open.  In  the  soft  light  a  shadowy  figure  came  from 
the  opposite  side,  passed  across  the  space,  and  dis- 
appeared among  the  further  trees,  followed  almost 
immediately  by  two  more.  The  time  was  now,  as  I 
guessed,  after  midnight,  and  these  were  late  comers, 
who  had  been  delayed  by  the  storm,  or  perhaps,  like 
myself,  had  had  to  dodge  the  patrol. 

I  followed  the  last  two  in  my  turn,  and  at  the  place 
where  they  re-entered  the  wood  I  saw  the  gleam  of  the 
white  blazes  on  the  tree.  I  had  struck  the  path  right 
enough,  and  went  along  it  confidently  in  the  gloom  of 
the  trees,  for  perhaps  a  hundred  yards,  when  a  light 
flashed  a  few  paces  in  front  of  me,  just  for  a  second, 
and  I  saw  against  the  gleam  the  figures  of  the  two  men 
who  were  preceding  me.  They  had  passed  on  when  I 
reached  the  place,  and  a  hand  grasped  my  shoulder, 
while  the  light  was  flashed  in  my  face.  I  saw  now  it 
was  a  dark  lantern,  such  as  policemen  carry  in  England. 

"The  password,  stranger,  and  the  sign,"  a  hoarse 
voice  whispered  in  the  darkness  that  followed  the 
momentary  flash  of  light. 

I  felt  for  his  hand,  gave  both  word  and  sign,  and  was 


132  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

allowed  to  go  on,  to  be  challenged  again  in  a  similar 
manner  at  a  little  distance.  Here  the  picket  detained 
me. 

"You  are  a  stranger,  comrade;  do  you  know  the 
way?"  he  asked.  All  the  questions  and  answers  had 
been  in  Russian. 

"No.     I  will  follow  those  in  front." 

He  muttered  something,  and  a  second  man  stepped 
out  on  to  the  path,  and  bade  me  follow  him.  How 
many  others  were  at  hand  I  do  not  know.  The  wood 
seemed  full  of  stealthy  sounds. 

My  guide  followed  the  path  for  only  a  short  distance 
further,  then  turned  aside,  drawing  me  after  him,  his 
hand  on  my  coat-sleeve. 

"Be  careful;  the  trees  are  thick  hereabouts,"  he 
said  in  a  low  voice,  as  he  walked  sideways.  He  seemed 
to  know  every  inch  of  the  way.  I  followed  his  example, 
and  after  a  minute  or  two  of  this  crab-like  progress  we 
emerged  into  a  second  clearing,  smaller  than  the  first, 
made  round  a  small  building,  from  which  came  the  sub- 
dued sound  of  voices,  though  for  a  moment  I  could  see 
no  light.  Then  a  door  was  partially  opened,  emitting 
a  faint  gleam,  and  two  men  passed  in,  —  doubtless 
those  whom  I  had  seen  in  front  of  me  just  now. 

Without  a  word  my  guide  turned  back  into  the  dark- 
ness, and  I  walked  forward  boldly,  pushed  the  door, 
which  gave  under  my  touch,  and  entered  the  place. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   TRIBUNAL 

IT  was  a  small,  ruinous  chapel,  the  windows  of  which 
had  been  roughly  boarded  up ;  and,  so  far  as  I  could 
see  by  the  dim  light  cast  by  two  oil  lanterns  hung  on 
the  walls,  all  those  assembled  inside  were  men,  — 
about  fifty  in  number  I  guessed,  for  the  place  was  by 
no  means  crowded.  There  was  a  clear  space  at  the 
further  end,  round  the  raised  piece  where  the  altar  had 
once  stood,  and  where  four  men  were  seated  on  a  bench 
of  some  sort.  I  could  not  distinguish  their  faces,  for 
they  all  wore  their  hats,  and  the  lamplight  was  so  dun 
that  it  only  served  to  make  the  darkness  visible.  The 
atmosphere  was  steamy,  too,  for  we  were  a  drenched 
and  draggled  lot. 

There  was  no  excitement  at  present ;  one  of  the  four 
men  on  the  dais  was  speaking  in  a  level  monotonous 
voice;  but,  as  I  cautiously  edged  my  way  towards  the 
front,  I  felt  that  this  silent,  sinister  crowd  was  in  deadly 
earnest,  as  was  the  man  who  was  addressing  it.  He 
was  speaking  in  Russian,  and  I  could  not  make  out 
quite  all  he  said. 

I  gathered  that  some  resolution  was  about  to  be 
passed,  for  just  as  I  got  sufficiently  forward  to  peer 
round  and  convince  myself  that  Anne  was  not  there, 
each  man  present,  except  myself  and  two  others,  held 
up  his  right  hand.  I  followed  suit  instantly,  judging 


134  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

that  to  be  wisest,  and  one  of  the  other  two  —  he  was 
standing  close  beside  me  —  put  his  up,  after  a  momen- 
tary hesitation  that  I  think  was  unnoticed  save  by  my- 
self. I  took  a  sidelong  glance  at  him.  He  was  an 
elderly,  distinguished  looking  man,  with  a  short  gray 
beard  cut  to  a  point,  and  an  upturned  gray  mustache. 
He  was  listening  intently,  but,  though  I  could  n't  see 
his  face  distinctly,  I  got  the  impression  that  he  also 
was  a  stranger,  and  that  he  understood  even  less  than 
I  did  what  was  going  on. 

The  president  spoke  again. 

"Are  there  any  here  who  are  against  the  election  of 
Constantine" — I  could  not  catch  the  other  name, 
which  was  a  long  Polish  one,  I  think  —  "  to  the  place 
on  the  council,  vacant  since  the  murder  of  our  com- 
rade, Vladimir  Selinski?" 

Selinski !  Cassavetti !  He  little  guessed  as  he  spoke 
that  the  man  who  found  Cassavetti's  body  was  now 
within  five  paces  of  him  ! 

Not  a  hand  was  raised,  and  the  man  who  had  not 
voted  stepped  on  to  the  dais,  in  obedience  to  a  gesture 
from  the  president,  and  took  his  seat  in  silence. 

A  hoarse  murmur  of  approval  went  round ;  but  that 
was  all.  The  grim  quietude  of  these  men  was  more  fear- 
ful than  any  amount  of  noise  could  have  been,  and,  as 
the  president  raised  his  hand  slightly,  a  dead  silence  fell. 

"Remains  now  only  that  we  do  justice  on  the  mur- 
deress of  Selinski,  the  traitress  who  has  betrayed  our 
secrets,  has  frustrated  many  of  our  plans,  has  warned 
more  than  one  of  those  whom  we  have  justly  doomed 
to  death  —  her  lover  among  them  —  with  the  result 
that  they  have  escaped,  for  the  present.  We  would  not 
condemn  her  unheard,  but  so  far  she  is  obdurate;  she 


THE  TRIBUNAL  135 

defies  us,  endeavors  once  more  to  trick  us.  If  she  were 
other  than  she  is,  or  rather  than  she  has  been,  she 
would  have  been  removed  long  since,  when  suspicion 
first  fell  upon  her;  but  there  are  many  of  us  who  love 
her  still,  who  would  not  believe  her  guilty  without  the 
evidence  of  their  own  eyes  and  ears;  and  therefore  we 
have  brought  her  here  that  she  may  speak  for  herself, 
defend  herself  if  that  is  possible.  It  will  rest  with  you 
to  acquit  or  condemn  her !" 

He  spoke  quite  quietly,  but  the  cool,  deliberate 
malignity  of  his  tone  was  horrible;  and  somehow  I 
knew  that  the  majority  of  those  present  shared  his 
animosity  against  the  prisoner,  although  he  had  spoken 
of  "many  of  us  who  love  her." 

The  man  beside  me  touched  my  arm,  and  spoke  to 
me  in  French. 

"Do  you  understand  him?'* 

"Yes,  do  you?" 

"No." 

There  was  no  time  for  more,  for,  at  a  signal  from  the 
president,  a  door  at  the  side  near  the  dais  was  opened, 
and  a  woman  was  led  in  by  two  men,  each  holding  her 
by  an  arm.  They  released  her,  and  she  stepped  back 
a  pace,  and  stood  against  the  wall,  her  hands  pressed 
against  it  on  either  side,  bracing  herself  like  a  royal 
creature  at  bay. 

It  was  Anne  herself,  and  for  a  moment  I  stood, 
unable  to  move,  scarcely  able  to  breathe.  There  was 
something  almost  unearthly  about  her  beauty  and 
courage.  The  feeble  lamplight  seemed  to  strengthen, 
and  to  concentrate  itself  on  her  face,  —  colorless  save 
for  the  vivid  red  lips,  —  on  her  eyes,  wide  and  brilliant 
with  indignation,  on  the  bright  hair  that  shone  like  a 


136  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

queenly  crown.  Wrath,  and  scorn,  and  defiance  were 
expressed  by  the  beautiful  face,  the  tense  figure;  but 
never  a  trace  of  fear. 

They  were  all  looking  at  her,  as  I  was,  in  silence,  — 
a  curious  hush  that  lasted  but  a  few  seconds,  but  in 
which  I  could  hear  the  beating  of  my  own  heart;  it 
sounded  as  loud  as  a  sledge  hammer. 

The  spell  was  broken  by  a  cry  from  the  man  with  the 
pointed  beard  next  me  who  sprang  forward  towards 
her,  shouting  in  English:  "Anne!  Anne!  It  is  I,  your 
father!" 

I  was  only  just  less  quick;  we  reached  her  almost 
together,  and  faced  about,  shielding  her  with  our 
bodies,  and  covering  those  nearest  us  with  our  revolvers. 

"Father!  Maurice!"  I  heard  her  sob.  "Oh,  I 
knew,  I  knew  you  would  come!" 

"What  is  this  devilry  ?"  shouted  Anthony  Pendennis 
in  French.  "How  comes  my  daughter  here?  She  is 
a  British  subject,  and  you  —  you  shall  pay  dearly  —  " 

He  got  no  further.  Our  action  had  been  so  swift,  so 
unexpected,  that  the  whole  crowd  stood  still,  as  if 
paralyzed  by  sheer  astonishment,  for  a  few  breathless 
seconds. 

"Spies!  Traitors!  Kill  them  all!"  shouted  the 
president,  springing  forward,  revolver  in  hand. 

Those  words  were  his  last,  for  he  threw  up  his  arms 
and  fell  as  my  first  shot  got  him.  The  rest  came  at  us 
all  together,  like  a  mob  of  furious  wild  beasts.  They 
were  all  armed,  some  with  revolvers,  others  with  the 
horrible  little  bludgeons  they  call  "killers,"  —  a  short 
heavy  bar  of  lead  set  on  a  strong  copper  spring,  no 
bigger  than  an  ordinary  round  office  ruler,  but  more 
deadly  at  close  quarters  than  a  revolver. 


THE  TRIBUNAL  137 

I  flung  up  my  left  hand,  tore  down  the  lamp  that 
hung  just  above  us,  and  hurled  it  among  them.  It  was 
extinguished  as  it  fell,  and  that  gave  us  a  small  ad- 
vantage, for  the  other  lamp  was  at  the  far  end,  and 
its  faint  light  did  not  reach  us,  but  only  served  to 
dimly  show  us  our  antagonists.  I  felt  Anne  sink  down 
to  the  floor  behind  me,  though  whether  a  shot  had 
reached  her  or  she  had  fainted  I  did  not  know. 

When  I  had  emptied  my  revolver  I  dropped  it, 
grabbed  a  "killer"  from  the  hand  of  a  fellow  I  had 
shot  pointblank,  and  laid  about  me  with  that.  I  sup- 
pose Pendennis  did  the  same.  As  Loris  had  warned 
me,  when  it  came  to  shooting,  there  was  no  time  for 
reloading;  but  the  "killer"  was  all  right.  I  wonder 
he  had  n't  given  me  one ! 

We  were  holding  our  own  well,  in  spite  of  the  tre- 
mendous odds,  and  after  a  while  —  though  whether  it 
was  five  minutes  or  fifty  I  could  n't  say  —  they  gave 
back  a  bit.  There  was  quite  a  heap  of  dead  and 
wounded  round  about  us;  but  I  don't  think  Anne's 
father  was  hurt  as  yet,  and  I  felt  no  pain,  though  my 
left  arm  hung  limp  and  useless,  numbed  by  a  blow 
from  a  "killer"  that  had  missed  my  head;  and  some- 
thing warm  was  dripping  down  my  right  wrist. 

"What  now?"  I  heard  Pendennis  say,  in  that  brief 
lull  in  the  pandemonium. 

"God  knows.  We  can't  get  to  the  door;  we  must 
fight  it  out  here ;  they  're  coming  on  again.  On 
guard  !" 

We  swung  up  our  weapons,  but  before  the  rush  could 
reach  us,  there  was  a  crash  close  at  hand;  the  door 
through  which  Anne  and  her  guards  had  entered  the 
chapel  was  thrown  open,  and  a  big  man  dashed  in,  — 


138  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

Loris  himself,  still  in  his  disguise.    So  he  had  reached 
us  at  last ! 

He  must  have  grasped  the  situation  at  a  glance,  for 
he  shouted :  "  Back ;  back  for  your  lives  !  By  the  other 
door.  We  are  betrayed ;  the  soldiers  are  here.  They 
are  coming  this  way.  Save  yourselves !" 


CHAPTER    XXI 

A    FORLORN    HOPE 

THEY  were  a  craven  crew,  —  bold  enough  when 
arrayed  in  their  numbers  against  two  men  and 
one  helpless  girl,  but  terror-stricken  at  these  fresh 
tidings. 

That  was  my  opinion  of  them  at  the  time,  but 
perhaps  it  was  unjust.  Every  man  who  attended 
that  meeting  had  done  so  at  the  deliberate  risk  of 
his  life  and  liberty.  Most  of  them  had  undoubtedly 
tramped  the  whole  way  to  the  rendezvous,  through 
the  storm  and  swelter  of  the  summer  night,  and  they 
were  fatigued  and  unstrung.  Also,  the  Russian  — 
and  especially  the  revolutionary  Russian  —  is  a  queer 
psychological  amalgam.  Ordinarily  as  callous  and 
stoical  as  a  Chinaman  in  the  infliction  or  endurance 
of  death  or  torture,  he  is  yet  a  bundle  of  high-strung 
nerves,  and  at  any  moment  his  cool  cynicism  is  liable 
to  give  place  to  sheer  hysteria. 

Therefore  at  the  warning  shout,  panic  seized  them, 
and  they  fled,  helter-skelter,  through  the  main  door. 
In  less  than  a  minute  the  place  was  clear  of  all  but 
ourselves  and  the  dead  and  wounded  on  the  floor. 

Loris  slammed  the  door,  barred  it,  and  strode  back 
to  us.  Pendennis  was  kneeling  beside  Anne,  calling 
her  by  her  name,  and  I  leaned  against  the  wall,  star- 
ing stupidly  down  at  them.  I  was  faint  and  dizzy 


140  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

all  at  once,  incapable  for  the  moment  of  either  speech 
or  action. 

"  Well  done,  my  friend ! "  the  Duke  exclaimed. 
"  You  thought  I  had  failed  you,  eh  ?  Come,  we  must 
get  out  of  this  quickly.  They  will  return  when  they 
find  it  is  a  ruse.  Is  she  hurt?  " 

He  pushed  Pendennis  aside  unceremoniously,  and 
lifted  Anne  in  his  arms,  as  easily  as  if  she  had  been 
a  child. 

I  think  she  must  have  been  regaining  conscious- 
ness, for  I  heard  him  say  rapidly  and  tenderly: 

"  Courage,  petite,  thou  shalt  soon  be  safe." 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  demanded  Pendennis,  peering  at 
him  in  perplexity.  His  disguise  was  palpable  and 
incongruous  enough,  now  that  he  was  speaking  in  his 
natural  voice. 

"  Her  friend,  as  I  presume  you  are ;  therefore 
follow  if  you  would  save  her  and  yourself.  There  is 
no  time  for  talk !  " 

With  Anne  in  his  arms  he  made  for  the  door  by 
which  he  had  entered,  and  Pendennis  rushed  after  him, 
Anne's  arms  were  round  his  neck;  she  was  clinging 
to  him,  and  her  head  lay  on  his  shoulder.  I  saw 
the  gleam  of  her  bright  hair  as  they  passed  through 
the  doorway,  —  the  last  I  was  to  see  of  Anne  Pen- 
dennis for  many  a  long  day. 

I  staggered  forward,  trying  to  beat  back  the 
horrible  faintness  that  was  overwhelming  me,  and  to 
follow  them,  stumbled  over  a  corpse,  and  fell  head- 
long. An  agonizing  pain  shot  through  me,  begin- 
ning at  my  left  arm,  and  I  knew  now  that  it  was 
broken.  The  pain  dispelled  the  faintness  for  the 
time  being,  but  I  made  no  attempt  to  rise.  Impos- 


A  FORLORN  HOPE  141 

sible  to  follow  them  now,  or  even  if  not  impossible, 
I  could  be  of  no  service ;  I  should  only  hamper  their 
flight.  Better  stay  here  and  die. 

I  think  I  prayed  that  I  might  die  soon ;  I  know  I 
prayed  that  they  might  yet  reach  safety.  Where 
had  Anne's  father  sprung  from  ?  How  could  he  have 
known  of  her  capture,  of  this  meeting  in  the  heart  of 
the  woods?  How  had  he  made  his  way  here? 

Why,  he  must  himself  belong  to  this  infernal 
society,  as  she  did ;  that  was  it,  of  course.  What  an 
abominable  din  this  was  in  my  head,  —  worse  to  bear 
than  the  pain  of  my  wounds.  In  my  head?  No,  the 
noise  was  outside  —  shrieks  and  shouts,  and  the 
crackle  of  rifles.  I  dragged  myself  to  a  sitting  pos- 
ture and  listened.  The  Duke  had  said  that  his  tale 
of  the  soldiers  was  a  mere  ruse,  but  certainly  there 
was  a  fight  going  on  outside.  Were  the  soldiers 
there,  and  had  Loris  unwittingly  spoken  the  truth, 
—  or  had  he  himself  betrayed  the  revolutionists  as  a 
last  resource?  Unanswerable  questions,  all  of  them; 
so  why  worry  about  them?  But  they  kept  whirling 
round  maddeningly  in  my  half  delirious  brain,  while 
the  din  still  raged  without,  though  it  seemed  to  be 
abating. 

The  remaining  lamp  had  flickered  out,  but  suffi- 
cient light  came  now  through  the  gaps  in  the  broken 
roof  to  enable  me  to  see  about  me.  The  place  was 
like  a  shambles  round  the  spot  where  we  had  taken 
our  stand;  there  were  five  or  six  bodies,  besides  the 
president,  whom  I  had  shot  at  first.  It  was  his  corpse 
I  had  stumbled  over,  so  he  had  his  revenge  in  a  way. 

I  found  myself  wondering  idly  how  long  it  would 
be  before  they  would  search  the  chapel,  and  if  it 


142  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

would  be  worth  while  to  try  and  get  out  by  the  door 
through  which  Loris  had  come  and  gone ;  but,  though 
I  made  a  feeble  effort  to  get  on  my  feet,  it  was  no 
good.  I  was  as  weak  as  an  infant.  I  discovered  then 
that  I  was  soaked  with  blood  from  bullet  wounds  in 
my  right  arm  and  in  my  side,  though  I  felt  no  pain 
from  them  at  the  time;  all  the  pain  was  concen- 
trated in  my  broken  left  arm. 

There  came  a  battering  at  the  barred  door,  to 
which  my  back  was  turned,  and  a  moment  afterwards 
the  other  door  swung  open,  and  an  officer  sprang  in, 
sword  in  hand,  followed  by  a  couple  of  soldiers  with 
fixed  bayonets. 

He  stopped  short,  with  an  exclamation  of  aston- 
ishment, at  the  sight  of  the  dead  man,  and  I  laughed 
aloud,  and  called: 

"Hello,  Mirakoff!" 

It  was  queer;  I  recognized  him,  I  heard  myself 
laugh  and  speak,  in  a  strange  detached  fashion,  as  if 
I  was  some  one  else,  having  no  connection  with  the 
battered  individual  half  sitting,  half  lying  on  the 
blood-stained  floor. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  asked,  staying  his  men  with  a 
gesture,  and  staring  down  at  me  with  a  puzzled 
frown. 

"  Maurice  Wynn." 

"  Monsieur  Wynn !  Ma  foi!  What  the  devil  are 
you  doing  here  ?  " 

"  Curiosity,"  I  said.  "  And  I  guess  I  Ve  paid 
for  it!" 

I  suppose  I  must  have  fainted  then,  for  the  next 
thing  I  knew  I  was  sitting  with  my  back  to  a  tree, 
while  a  soldier  beside  me,  leaning  on  his  rifle,  ex- 


A  FORLORN  HOPE  143 

changed  ribald  pleasantries  with  some  of  his  com- 
rades who,  assisted  by  several  stolid-faced  moujiks, 
were  busily  engaged  in  filling  in  and  stamping  down 
a  huge  and  hastily  dug  grave. 

At  a  h'ttle  distance,  three  officers,  one  of  them 
Mirakoff,  were  talking  together,  and  beside  them, 
thrown  on  an  outspread  coat,  was  a  heap  of  odd- 
ments, chiefly  papers,  revolvers,  and  "  killers."  As 
I  looked  a  soldier  gathered  these  up  into  a  bundle, 
and  hoisted  it  on  his  shoulder.  A  watch  and  chain 
fell  out,  and  he  picked  them  up,  and  pocketed  them. 

I  heard  a  hoarse  word  of  command  on  the  right, 
and  saw  a  number  of  prisoners  —  the  remnant  of  the 
revolutionists,  each  with  a  soldier  beside  him  —  file 
into  the  wood.  They  all  looked  miserable  enough, 
poor  wretches.  Some  were  wounded,  scarcely  able  to 
stand,  and  their  guards  urged  them  forward  by 
prodding  them  with  their  bayonets. 

I  wondered  why  I  was  n't  among  them,  and  guessed 
if  they  tried  to  make  me  march  that  way,  I  'd  just 
stay  still  and  let  them  prod  the  life  out  of  me ! 

I  still  felt  dazed  and  queer,  and  my  broken  left 
arm  hurt  me  badly.  It  hung  helpless  at  my  side, 
but  my  right  arm  had  been  roughly  bandaged  and 
put  in  a  sling,  and  I  could  feel  a  wad  over  the  other 
wound,  held  in  place  by  a  scarf  of  some  kind.  My 
mouth  and  throat  were  parched  with  a  burning  thirst 
that  was  even  worse  than  the  pain  in  my  arm. 

The  group  of  officers  dispersed,  and  Mirakoff 
crossed  over  to  me. 

"  Well,  you  are  recovering?  "  he  asked  curtly. 

I  moved  my  lips,  but  no  sound  would  come,  so  I 
just  looked  up  at  him. 


144  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

He  saw  how  it  was  with  me,  and  ordered  the  sol- 
dier to  fetch  water.  He  was  a  decent  youngster,  that 
Mirakoff,  too  good  for  a  Russian ;  he  must  have  had 
some  foreign  blood  in  him. 

"  This  is  a  serious  matter,"  he  said,  while  the  man 
was  gone.  "  Lucky  I  chanced  on  you,  or  you  'd  have 
been  finished  off  at  once,  and  shoved  in  there  with 
the  rest"  —  he  jerked  his  head  towards  the  new- 
made  grave.  "  I  've  done  the  best  I  could  for  you. 
You  '11  be  carried  through  the  wood,  and  sent  in  a 
cart  to  Petersburg,  instead  of  having  to  run  by  the 
stirrup,  as  the  others  who  can  stand  must  do.  But 
you  '11  have  to  go  to  prison.  What  on  earth  induced 
you  to  come  here?  " 

The  man  came  back  with  the  water,  and  I  drank 
greedily,  and  found  my  voice,  though  the  words  came 
slowly  and  clumsily. 

"  Curiosity,  as  I  told  you." 

"  Curiosity  to  see  '  La  Mori,'  you  mean  ?  " 

"  No ;  though  I  've  got  pretty  close  to  death,"  I 
said,  making  a  feeble  pun.  (We  were,  of  course, 
speaking  in  French.) 

"  I  don't  mean  death ;  I  mean  a  woman  who  is 
called  'La  MortS  Her  name  's  Anna  Petrovna.  She 
was  to  have  been  there.  Did  you  see  her?  Was  she 
there?  " 

I  forgot  my  pain  for  the  instant,  in  the  relief  that 
his  words  conveyed.  Surely  he  would  not  have  put 
that  question  to  me  if  she  was  already  a  prisoner. 
Loris  must  have  got  away  with  her,  and,  for  the 
present,  at  least,  she  was  safe. 


CHAPTER    XXH 

THE    PRISON    HOUSE 

"  rilHERE   was   a  woman,"   I   confessed.      "  And 

JL  that 's  how  I  came  to  be  chipped  about. 
They  were  going  to  murder  her." 

"  To  murder  her !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Why,  she  's 
one  of  them;  the  cleverest  and  most  dangerous  of 
the  lot!  Said  to  be  a  wonderfully  pretty  girl,  too. 
Did  you  see  her  ?  " 

"  Only  for  a  moment ;  there  was  n't  much  light. 
From  what  I  could  make  out  they  accused  her  of 
treachery,  and  led  her  in ;  she  stood  with  her  back 
against  the  wall,  —  she  looked  quite  a  girl,  with  red- 
dish hair.  Then  the  row  began.  There  were  only 
two  or  three  took  her  part,  and  I  j  oined  in ;  one 
can't  stand  by  and  see  a  helpless  girl  shot  or  stabbed 
by  a  lot  of  cowardly  brutes." 

I  had  found  an  air  of  apparent  candor  serve  me 
before,  and  guessed  it  might  do  so  again. 

"Well,  what  then?" 

"  That 's  all  I  remember  clearly ;  we  had  a  lively 
time  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  some  one  shouted 
that  the  soldiers  were  coming;  and  the  next  I  knew 
I  was  sitting  on  the  floor,  wondering  what  had  hap- 
pened. I  'd  been  there  quite  a  while  when  you  found 
me." 

"  It  is  marvellous  how  she  always  escapes,"  he 
said,  more  to  himself  than  to  me.  "  Still,  we  've  got 

10 


146  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

a  good  haul  this  time.  Now,  how  did  you  get  here? 
Some  one  must  have  told  you,  guided  you?  " 

"  That  I  can't  tell  you." 

"  You  mean  you  won't?  " 

"  Well,  put  it  that  way  if  you  like." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Wynn ;  I  am  asking  you  for 
your  own  sake.  If  you  don't  tell  me,  you  '11  be  made 
to  tell  later.  You  have  n't  the  least  idea  what  you  've 
let  yourself  in  for,  man !  Come,  did  not  Count  Solo- 
vieff  —  you  know  well  who  I  mean  —  bring  you 
here?" 

"No.   I  came  alone." 

"  At  least  he  knew  you  were  coming?  " 

"  He  may  have  done.    I  can't  say." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Have  it  your  own  way.  You  will  regret  your 
obstinacy  later ;  remember,  I  have  warned  you." 

"  Thanks,  —  it 's  good  of  you,  Mirakoff ;  but  I  've 
told  you  all  I  mean  to  tell  any  one." 

He  paused,  biting  his  mustache,  and  frowning 
down  at  me. 

"  Fetch  more  water,"  he  said  abruptly  to  the  sol- 
dier, who  had  heard  all  that  passed,  and  might 
or  might  not  understand;  the  Russians  are  a  poly- 
glot people. 

"  I  have  done  what  Ij  could,"  Mirakoff  continued 
hurriedly  in  the  brief  interval  while  we  were  alone. 
"  You  had  two  passports.  I  took  the  false  one,  — 
it  is  yonder ;  they  will  think  it  belongs  to  one  of  the 
dead  men.  Your  own  is  still  in  your  pocket;  the 
police  will  take  it  when  you  get  to  prison;  at  least 
it  will  show  your  identity,  and  may  make  things 
easier." 


THE  PRISON  HOUSE  147 

"  Thanks,  again,"  I  said  earnestly.  "  And  if  you 
could  contrive  to  send  word  to  the  American  or  Eng- 
lish Embassy,  or  both." 

"  I  '11  see  what  I  can  do.  Give  him  the  water,"  he 
added,  as  the  soldier  again  returned. 

He  watched  as  I  drank,  then  turned  on  his  heel 
and  left  me,  without  another  word.  He  had,  as  I 
knew,  already  compromised  his  dignity  sufficiently 
by  conversing  with  me  at  all. 

But  he  had  cheered  me  immensely.  I  was  sure  now 
that  those  three  —  Anne,  her  father,  and  Loris  — 
had  got  clear  away,  doubtless  to  the  house  Mishka 
had  mentioned,  where  horses  would  be  waiting  for 
them;  and  by  this  time  they  might  be  far  from  the 
danger  zone.  Therefore  I  felt  able  to  face  what  lay 
in  store  for  myself,  however  bad  it  might  be.  It 
was  bad  enough,  even  at  the  beginning;  though,  as 
Mirakoff  had  said,  it  would  have  been  worse  but  for 
his  intervention.  A  few  minutes  after  he  left  me, 
I  was  hoisted  into  a  kind  of  improvised  carrying 
chair,  borne  by  a  couple  of  big  soldiers,  who  went 
along  the  narrow  track  at  a  jog-trot,  and  amused 
themselves  by  bumping  me  against  every  tree  trunk 
that  was  conveniently  near.  They  had  been  ordered 
to  carry  me,  and  they  did  so ;  but  I  think  I  'd  have 
suffered  less  if  I  had  marched  with  the  others,  even 
counting  in  the  bayonet  prods ! 

We  reached  the  road  at  last,  where  horses  were 
waiting,  and  a  wagon,  containing  several  wounded 
prisoners.  I  was  thrown  in  on  top  of  them,  and  we 
started  off  at  a  lumbering  gallop,  the  guard  of  sol- 
diers increasing  in  numbers  as  those  who  had  fol- 
lowed on  foot  through  the  wood  mounted  and  over- 


148  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

took  us.  I  saw  Mirakoff  pass  and  ride  on  ahead ;  he 
did  not  even  glance  in  my  direction.  More  than  once 
we  had  to  stop  to  pick  up  a  dead  or  dying  man,  one 
of  the  batch  of  prisoners  who  had  been  forced  to 
"  run  by  the  stirrup,"  with  their  hands  tied  behind 
them,  and  a  strap  passed  round  their  waist,  attach- 
ing them  to  the  stirrup  of  the  horse,  which  its  rider 
urges  to  full  speed,  —  that  is  part  of  the  fun.  It  is 
a  very  active  man  who  can  maintain  the  pace,  though 
it  is  marvellous  what  some  can  accomplish  under  the 
sharp  incentives  of  fear  and  pain.  He  who  stumbles 
is  jerked  loose  and  left  by  the  wayside  where  he  fell; 
as  were  those  whom  we  found,  and  who  were  tossed 
into  the  wagon  with  as  much  unconcern  as  scaven- 
gers toss  refuse  into  their  carts. 

It  was  during  one  of  these  brief  halts  I  saw  some- 
thing that  discounted  the  tidings  I  had  heard  from 
Mirakoff. 

I  was  the  least  hurt  of  any  of  the  wretched  occu- 
pants of  the  wagon,  and  I  had  managed  to  drag 
myself  to  the  far  end  and  to  sit  there,  in  the  off- 
side corner,  my  knees  hunched  up  to  my  chin.  My 
arms  were  helpless,  so  I  could  do  nothing  to  assist 
my  unfortunate  companions,  and  could  only  crouch 
there,  with  my  teeth  set,  enduring  the  pain  that 
racked  me,  with  as  much  fortitude  as  I  could  muster. 

There  was  a  clatter  and  jingle  on  the  road  behind 
us,  and  an  instant  later  a  droshky  passed,  at  a  com- 
paratively slow  pace,  —  the  one  horse  seemed  almost 
spent,  —  preceded  and  followed  by  a  small  escort  of 
cavalry. 

For  the  moment  I  forgot  the  torture  I  was  en- 
during, as  I  recognized,  with  dismay,  the  Grand  Duke 


THE  PRISON  HOUSE  149 

Loris  as  one  of  the  two  occupants  of  the  little  car- 
riage, —  a  bizarre,  disreputable-looking  figure,  for 
he  still  wore  the  filthy  clothes  and  the  dirty  face  of 
"  Ivan,"  the  droshky  man,  though  the  false  beard 
and  wig  were  gone.  Yet,  in  spite  of  his  attire  and 
the  remains  of  his  disguise,  he  looked  every  inch  a 
prince.  His  blue  eyes  were  wide  and  serene,  and 
he  held  a  cigarette  between  two  begrimed  fingers. 
Beside  him  was  a  spick  and  span  officer,  sitting  well 
back  in  his  corner  and  looking  distinctly  uncomfort- 
able; while  the  easy  grace  of  the  Duke's  attitude 
would  have  suited  a  state-carriage  rather  than  this 
shabby  little  vehicle;  though  it  suited  that,  too. 

He  glanced  at  the  cart,  and  our  eyes  met.  I 
saw  a  flash  of  recognition  in  his,  but  next  instant 
the  droshky,  with  its  escort,  had  passed,  and  we 
were  lumbering  on  again. 

He  also  was  a  prisoner,  then!  But  what  of  Anne 
and  her  father?  Had  they  escaped?  Surely,  if  they 
had  been  taken,  he  would  not  have  sat  there  smoking 
so  unconcernedly!  But  who  could  tell?  I,  at  least, 
knew  him  for  a  consummate  actor. 

Well,  conjecture  was  futile;  and  I  was  soon  in  a 
state  of  fever,  consequent  on  pain  and  loss  of  blood, 
that  rendered  conjecture,  or  coherent  thought  of  any 
kind  impossible. 

I  don't  even  recollect  arriving  at  the  prison,  — 
that  same  grim  fortress  of  Peter  and  Paul  which 
I  had  mused  on  as  I  looked  at  it  across  the  river 
such  a  short  time  back,  reckoned  by  hours,  an  eter- 
nity reckoned  by  sensations !  What  followed  was 
like  a  ghastly  nightmare ;  worse,  for  it  was  one  from 
which  there  was  no  awaking,  no  escape.  Often 


150  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

even  now  I  start  awake,  in  a  sweat  of  fear,  having 
dreamed  that  I  was  back  again  in  that  inferno, 
racked  with  agony,  faint  with  hunger,  parched  with 
thirst.  For  the  Russian  Government  allows  its  polit- 
ical prisoners  twelve  ounces  of  black  bread  a  day, 
and  there  's  never  enough  water  to  slake  the  burn- 
ing thirst  of  the  victims,  or  there  was  n't  in  those 
awful  summer  days,  which,  I  have  been  told,  are 
yet  a  degree  more  endurable  than  the  iron  cold  of 
winter. 

Small  wonder  that  of  the  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  prisoners  who  are  flung  into  Russian  jails  only 
a  small  percentage  are  ever  brought  to  trial,  and 
executed  or  deported  to  Siberia.  The  great  major- 
ity are  never  heard  of  again ;  they  are  dead  to  the 
outside  world  when  the  great  gates  clang  behind 
them,  and  soon  they  perish  from  pain  and  hunger 
and  privation.  It  is  well  for  them  if  they  are  deli- 
cate folk,  whose  misery  is  quickly  ended;  it  is  the 
strong  who  suffer  most  in  the  instinctive  struggle 
for  life. 

Whether  I  was  ever  interrogated  I  don't  know 
to  this  day,  nor  exactly  how  long  I  was  in  the  hor- 
rible place;  I  guess  it  was  about  a  fortnight,  but 
it  was  a  considerable  time,  even  after  I  left  it,  be- 
fore I  was  able  even  to  attempt  to  piece  things  out 
in  my  mind. 

I  was  lying  on  my  bunk,  —  barely  conscious, 
though  no  longer  delirious,  —  when  one  of  the  armed 
warders  came  and  shook  me  by  the  shoulder,  roughly 
bidding  me  get  up  and  follow  him.  I  tried  to  obey, 
but  I  was  as  weak  as  a  rat,  and  he  just  put  his 
arm  round  me  and  hauled  me  along,  easily  enough, 


THE  PRISON  HOUSE  151 

for  he  was  a  muscular  giant,  and  I  was  something 
like  a  skeleton. 

I  did  n't  feel  the  faintest  interest  in  his  proceed- 
ings, for  I  was  almost  past  taking  interest  in  any- 
thing; but  I  remembered  later  that  we  went  along 
some  flagged  passages,  and  up  stone  stairs,  passing 
more  than  one  lot  of  sentries.  He  hustled  me  into 
a  room  and  planked  me  down  on  a  bench  with  my 
back  to  the  wall,  where  I  sat,  blinking  stupidly  for 
a  minute.  Then,  with  an  effort,  I  pulled  myself 
together  a  bit,  and  was  able  to  see  that  there  were 
several  men  in  the  room,  two  of  them  in  plain  clothes, 
and  the  face  of  one  of  them  seemed  vaguely  familiar. 

"  Is  this  your  man,  Monsieur?  "  I  heard  one  of 
the  Russians  say ;  and  the  man  at  whom  I  was 
staring  answered  gravely :  "  I  don't  know ;  if  he 
is,  you  have  managed  to  alter  him  almost  out  of 
knowledge." 

I  knew  by  his  accent  that  he  was  an  English- 
man, and  a  moment  later  I  knew  who  he  was,  as  he 
came  close  up  to  me  and  said  sharply :  "  Maurice 
Wynn?" 

"  Yes,  I  'm  Wynn,"  I  managed  to  say.  "  How 
are  you,  Inspector  Freeman?  " 

Somehow  at  the  moment  it  did  not  seem  in  the 
least  wonderful  that  he  should  be  here  in  Petersburg, 
and  in  search  of  me.  I  did  n't  even  feel  astonished 
at  his  next  words. 

"  Maurice  Wynn,  I  have  a  wart-ant  for  your  ar- 
rest on  the  charge  of  murdering  Vladimir  Selinski, 
—  alias  Cassavetti." 


CHAPTER    XXHI 

FREEMAN    EXPLAINS 

fTTHE  next  I  knew  I  was  in  bed,  in  a  cool,  dark- 
JL  ened  room,  with  a  man  seated  in  an  easy-chair 
near  at  hand,  smoking  a  cigarette,  and  reading  what 
looked  remarkably  like  an  English  newspaper. 

I  lay  and  looked  at  him  lazily,  for  a  few  minutes. 
I  had  n't  the  least  idea  as  to  where  I  was,  or  how 
I  came  there ;  I  did  n't  feel  any  curiosity  on  the 
point.  The  blissful  consciousness  of  cleanliness  and 
comfort  was  quite  sufficient  for  me  at  present.  My 
broken  arm  had  been  set  and  put  in  rude  splints 
while  I  was  in  the  prison,  by  one  of  my  fellow  suf- 
ferers, I  expect,  and  was  now  scientifically  cased  in 
plaster  of  Paris ;  the  bullet  wounds  in  my  right  arm 
and  side  were  properly  dressed  and  strapped,  and 
felt  pretty  comfortable  till  I  tried  to  shift  my  posi- 
tion a  Little,  when  I  realized  they  were  there. 

At  the  slight  movement  the  man  in  the  chair  laid 
down  his  paper  and  came  up  to  the  bed. 

"  Hello,  Mr.  Wynn ;  feel  a  bit  more  like  yourself, 
eh?  "  he  asked  bluffly,  in  English. 

"Why,  yes,  I  feel  just  about  '  O.  K.,'  thanks," 
I  responded,  and  laughed  inanely.  My  voice  sounded 
funny  —  thin  and  squeaky  —  and  it  j  umped  from 
one  note  to  another.  I  had  n't  the  least  control 
over  it.  "  Say,  where  am  I,  and  who  are  you?  I 
guess  you  've  done  me  a  good  turn !  " 


FREEMAN  EXPLAINS  153 

"  Humph,  I  suppose  we  have.  Good  Lord,  think 
of  an  Englishman  —  you  're  an  American,  but  it 's 
all  the  same  in  this  case  —  being  treated  like  that 
by  these  Russian  swine !  You  're  still  in  St.  Peters- 
burg ;  we  've  got  to  patch  you  up  a  bit  before  we 
can  take  you  back  to  good  old  England." 

Now  why  should  he,  or  any  one  else,  be  "  taking 
me  back  to  England  ?  "  I  puzzled  over  it  in  silence 
before  I  put  the  question. 

"  Never  you  mind  about  that  now,"  he  said  with 
brusque  kindliness.  "  All  you  've  got  to  think  about 
is  getting  strong  again." 

But  already  I  began  to  remember,  and  past  events 
came  jumping  before  my  mind  h'ke  cinematograph 
pictures. 

"  You  fetched  me  out  of  prison,  —  you  and  In- 
spector Freeman,"  I  said  slowly. 

"  Look  here,  don't  you  worry,"  he  began. 

"  Yes,  I  must  —  I  want  to  get  things  clear ;  wait 
a  bit.  He  said  something.  I  know;  he  came  to 
arrest  me  for  murder,  —  the  murder  of  Cassavetti." 

"  Just  so ;  and  a  j  oily  good  thing  for  you  he 
did!  But,  as  you've  remembered  that  much,  I 
must  warn  you  that  I  'm  a  detective  in  charge  of 
you,  and  anything  you  say  will  be  used  against 
you." 

More  cinematograph  pictures,  —  Cassavetti  as  I 
saw  him,  lying  behind  the  door,  his  eyes  open,  star- 
ing; myself  on  the  steps  below  Westminster  Bridge, 
calling  to  Anne,  as  she  sat  in  the  boat.  Anne!  No 
more  pictures,  but  a  jiggery  of  red  and  black 
splashes,  and  then  a  darkness,  through  which  I  passed 
somehow  into  a  pleasant  place,  —  a  garden  where 


154  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

roses  bloomed  and  a  fountain  plashed,  and  Anne 
was  beside  me;  I  held  her  hand  in  mine. 

Now  she  was  gone,  she  had  vanished  mysteriously. 
What  was  that  man  saying?  "  The  Fraulein  has 
not  been  here  at  all !  "  Why,  she  was  here  a  mo- 
ment ago ;  what  a  fool  that  waiter  was !  A  waiter  ? 
No,  he  was  a  droshky  driver;  I  knew  it,  though  I 
could  not  see  him.  There  were  other  voices  speak- 
ing now,  —  men's  voices,  —  subdued  but  distinct ; 
and  as  I  listened  I  came  back  from  the  land  of 
dreams  —  or  delirium  —  to  that  of  reality. 

"  Yes,  he  's  been  pretty  bad,  sir.  He  came  to  him- 
self quite  nicely,  and  began  to  talk.  No,  I  did  n't 
tell  him  anything,  as  you  said  I  was  n't  to,  but  he 
remembered  by  himself,  and  then  I  had  to  warn  him, 
and  he  went  right  off  again." 

"  You  're  an  ass,  Harris,"  said  another  voice. 
"  What  did  you  want  to  speak  to  him  at  all  for  ?  " 

I  opened  my  eyes  at  that,  and  saw  Freeman  and 
the  other  man  looking  down  at  me. 

"He  is  n't  an  ass ;  he  's  a  real  good  sort,"  I  an- 
nounced. "  And  I  did  n't  murder  Cassavetti,  though 
I  'd  have  murdered  half  a  dozen  Cassavettis  to  get 
out  of  that  hell  upon  earth  yonder ! " 

I  shut  my  eyes  again,  settled  myself  luxuriously 
against  my  pillows,  and  went,  —  back  to  Anne  and 
the  rose-garden. 

I  suppose  I  began  to  pull  round  from  that  time, 
and  in  a  few  days  I  was  able  to  get  up.  I  almost 
forgot  that  I  was  still  in  custody,  and  even  when  I 
remembered  the  fact,  it  did  n't  trouble  me  in  the 
least.  After  what  I  had  endured  in  the  Russian 
prison,  it  was  impossible,  at  present,  anyhow,  to  con- 


sider  Detective-Inspector  Freeman  and  his  subor- 
dinate, Harris,  as  anything  less  than  the  best  of  good 
fellows  and  good  nurses.  True,  they  never  left  me 
to  myself  for  an  instant;  one  or  other  of 'them  was 
always  in  close  attendance  on  me ;  but  there  was  noth- 
ing of  espionage  in  that  attendance.  They  merely 
safe-guarded  me,  and,  at  the  same  time,  helped  me 
back  to  life,  as  if  I  had  been  their  comrade  rather 
than  their  prisoner.  Freeman,  in  due  course,  gave 
me  his  formal  warning  that  "  anything  I  said  with 
respect  to  the  crime  with  which  I  was  charged  would 
be  used  against  me ; "  but  in  all  other  respects  both 
he  and  Harris  acted  punctiliously  on  the  principle 
held  by  only  two  civilized  nations  in  the  world,  — 
England  and  the  United  States  of  America,  —  that 
"  a  man  is  regarded  as  innocent  in  the  eyes  of  the 
law  until  he  has  been  tried  and  found  guilty." 

"Well,  how  goes  it  to-day?"  Freeman  asked,  as 
he  relieved  his  lieutenant  one  morning.  "  You  look 
a  sight  better  than  you  did.  D'  you  think  you  can 
stand  the  j  ourney  ?  We  don't  want  you  to  die  on  our 
hands  en  route,  you  know ! " 

"  We  '11  start  to-day  if  you  like ;  I  'm  fit  enough," 
I  answered.  "  Let 's  get  back  and  get  it  over.  It 's 
a  preposterous  charge,  you  know ;  but  —  " 

"  We  need  n't  discuss  that,  Mr.  Wynn,"  he  inter- 
rupted hastily. 

"  All  right ;  we  won't.  Though  I  fancy  I 
should  n't  have  been  alive  at  this  time  if  you  had  n't 
taken  it  into  your  heads  to  hunt  me  down  as  the  mur- 
derer of  a  man  who  was  n't  even  a  naturalized  Eng- 
lishman. You  came  just  in  the  nick  of  time,  Mr. 
Freeman." 


156  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"  Well,  yes,  I  think  we  did  that,"  he  conceded. 
"You  were  the  most  deplorable  object  I've  ever 
seen  in  the  course  of  my  experience,  —  and  that 's 
fairly  long  and  varied.  I  'd  like  to  know  how  you 
got  into  their  clutches ;  though  you  need  n't  say  if  it 
has  any  connection  with  —  " 

"  Why,  certainly.  It  's  nothing  to  do  with  Cassa- 
vetti,  or  Selinski,  or  whatever  his  name  was,"  I 
said. 

"  I  got  wind  of  a  Nihilist  •  meeting  in  the  woods, 
went  there  out  of  curiosity ;  and  the  soldiers  turned 
up.  There  was  a  free  fight ;  they  got  the  best  of  it, 
took  me  prisoner  with  the  others,  and  that 's  all. 
But  how  did  you  trace  me?  How  long  had  you  been 
in  Petersburg?  " 

"  Only  a  couple  of  days.  Found  you  had  disap- 
peared and  the  Embassies  were  raising  Cain.  It 
seemed  likely  you  'd  been  murdered,  as  Carson  was. 
The  police  declared  they  were  making  every  effort 
to  trace  you,  without  success;  and  I  doubt  if  they 
would  have  produced  you,  even  in  response  to  the 
extradition  warrant,  but  that  some  one  mysteriously 
telephoned  information  to  the  American  Embassy 
that  you  were  in  prison  —  in  the  fortress  —  and  even 
gave  your  number ;  though  he  would  not  give  his 
own  name  or  say  where  he  was  speaking  from." 

Who  was  it,  I  wondered,  —  Loris  or  Mirakoff  ?  It 
must  have  been  one  or  the  other.  He  had  saved  my 
life,  anyhow. 

"  So  acting  on  that,  we  simply  went  and  demanded 
you;  and  good  heavens,  what  a  sight  you  were!  I 
thought  you  'd  die  in  the  droshky  that  we  brought 
you  here  in.  I  could  n't  help  telling  the  officer  who 


FREEMAN  EXPLAINS  157 

handed  you  over  that  I  could  n't  congratulate  him 
on  his  prison  system ;   and  he  grinned  and  said : 

"  Ah,  I  have  heard  that  you  English  treat  your 
prisoners  as  honored  guests.  .We  prefer  our  own 
methods." 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

BACK   TO    ENGLAND 

"IITE  started  for  England  the  next  night,  sec- 
»  V  ond  class,  and  travelled  right  through,  as 
I  stood  the  journey  better  than  any  of  us  expected. 
After  we  crossed  the  frontier,  I  doubt  if  any  of  our 
fellow  travellers,  or  any  one  else,  for  the  matter  of 
that,  had  the  least  suspicion  that  I  was  a  prisoner 
being  taken  back  to  stand  my  trial  on  the  gravest 
of  all  charges,  and  not  merely  an  invalid,  assiduously 
tended  by  my  two  companions.  I  did  n't  even  realize 
the  fact  myself  at  the  time,  —  or  at  least  I  only 
realized  it  now  and  then. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Wynn,  you  've  looked  your  last  on 
Russia,  and  jolly  glad  I  should  be  if  I  were  you," 
Freeman  remarked  cheerfully  when  we  were  in  the 
train  again,  on  the  way  to  Konigsberg. 

"  Looked  my  last,  —  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  Even 
as  I  spoke  I  remembered  why  he  was  in  charge  of 
me,  and  laughed. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  you  think  you  're  going  to  hang 
me  on  this  preposterous  murder  charge." 

He  was  upset  that  I  should  imagine  him  guilty  of 
such  a  breach  of  what  he  called  professional  etiquette, 
as,  it  seemed,  any  reference  to  my  present  position 
would  have  been. 

"  I  meant  that,  if  you  wanted  to  go  back,  you 
would  n't  be  allowed  to.  They  've  fired  you  out, 


BACK  TO  ENGLAND  159 

and  won't  have  you  again  at  any  price,"  he  explained 
stiffly. 

"  Oh,  won't  they?  I  guess  they  will  if  I  want  to 
go.  Look  here,  Freeman,  I  bet  you  twenty  dollars, 
say  five  pounds  English,  that  I  '11  be  back  in  Russia 
within  six  months  from  this  date,  —  that  is,  if  I 
think  fit,  —  and  that  they  '11  admit  me  all  right. 
You  '11  have  to  trust  me,  for  I  can't  deposit  the 
stakes  at  present;  I  will  when  we  get  back  to  Eng- 
land. Is  it  a  deal?  " 

His  answer  was  enigmatic,  and  I  took  it  as 
complimentary. 

"  Well,  you  are  a  cough-drop ! "  he  exclaimed. 
"  No,  I  can't  take  the  bet,  —  't  would  n't  be  profes- 
sional; though  I'd  like  to  know,  without  prejudice, 
as  the  lawyers  say,  why  on  earth  you  should  want 
to  go  back.  I  should  have  thought  you  'd  had  quite 
enough  of  it." 

I  could  not  tell  him  the  real  reason,  —  that,  if  I 
lived,  I  should  never  rest  till  I  had  at  least  learned 
the  fate  of  Anne  Pendennis. 

"  There 's  a  fascination  about  it,"  I  explained. 
"  They  're  back  in  the  middle  ages  there ;  and  you 
never  know  what 's  going  to  happen  next,  to  yourself 
or  any  one  else." 

"Well,  I'm  —  blessed!  You'd  go  back  just  for 
that !  " 

"  Why,  certainly,"  I  assented. 

There  were  several  things  I  'd  have  liked  to  ask 
him,  but  I  did  not  choose  to ;  for  I  guessed  he  would 
not  have  answered  me.  One  was  whether  he  had 
traced  the  old  Russian  whose  coming  had  been  the 
beginning  of  all  the  trouble,  so  far  as  I  was 


160  THE  RED   SYMBOL 

cerned,  anyway ;  and  how  he  knew  that  a  woman  — 
a  red-haired  woman  as  he  had  said  —  had  been  in 
Cassavetti's  rooms  the  night  he  was  murdered. 

If  that  woman  were  Anne  —  as  in  my  heart  I  knew 
she  must  have  been,  though  I  would  n't  allow  myself 
to  acknowledge  it  —  he  must  have  discovered  further 
evidence  that  cleared  her,  or  he  would  certainly  have 
been  prosecuting  a  search  for  her,  instead  of  arrest- 
ing me. 

However,  I  hoped  to  get  some  light  on  the  mys- 
tery either  when  my  case  came  before  the  magistrate, 
or  between  then  and  the  trial,  supposing  I  was  com- 
mitted for  trial. 

It  was  when  we  were  nearing  Dover,  about  three 
o'clock  on  a  heavenly  summer  morning,  that  I  began 
to  understand  my  position.  We  were  all  on  deck, 
—  I  lying  at  full  length  on  a  bench,  with  plenty  of 
cushions  about  me,  and  a  rug  over  me. 

"  Well,  we  're  nearly  in,"  Freeman  remarked  cheer- 
fully. "  Another  five  minutes  will  do  it.  Feel  pretty 
fit?" 

"  Splendid,"  I  answered,  swinging  my  feet  off  the 
bench,  and  sitting  up. 

"  That 's  all  right.  Here,  take  Harris's  arm  —  so. 
I  sha'n't  worry  about  your  left  arm;  this  will  do 
the  trick." 

"  This  "  meant  that  a  handcuff  was  snapped  round 
my  right  wrist,  and  its  fellow,  connected  with  it  by 
a  chain,  round  Harris's  left. 

I  shivered  involuntarily  at  the  touch  of  the  steel, 
at  the  sensation  of  being  a  prisoner  in  reality,  — 
fettered  !s 

"  I   say,   that  is  n't   necessary,"   I   remonstrated, 


BACK  TO  ENGLAND  161 

rather  unsteadily.  "  You  must  know  that  I  shall 
make  no  attempt  to  escape." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that,  but  we  must  do  things  de- 
cently and  in  order,"  he  answered  soothingly,  as  one 
would  speak  to  a  fractious  child.  "  That 's  quite 
comfortable,  is  n't  it?  You  'd  have  had  to  lean  on 
one  of  us  anyhow,  being  an  invalid.  There,  the 
rug  over  your  shoulder  —  so ;  not  a  soul  will  no- 
tice it,  and  we  '11  go  ashore  last ;  we  've  a  compart- 
ment reserved  on  the  train,  of  course." 

I  dare  say  he  was  right,  and  that  none  of  the 
many  passengers  noticed  anything  amiss ;  but  I  felt 
as  if  every  one  must  be  staring  at  me,  —  a  hand- 
cuffed felon.  The  "  bracelet "  did  n't  hurt  me  at 
all,  like  those  that  had  been  forced  on  my  swollen 
wrists  in  the  Russian  prison,  and  that  had  added 
considerably  to  the  tortures  I  endured;  but  some- 
how it  seemed  morally  harder  to  bear,  —  as  a  slight 
but  deliberate  insult  from  one  who  has  been  a  friend 
hurts  more  than  any  amount  of  injury  inflicted  by 
an  avowed  enemy. 

They  were  both  as  kind  and  considerate  as  ever 
during  the  last  stage  of  our  journey.  From  Dover 
to  Charing  Cross,  Harris,  I  know,  sat  in  a  most 
cramped  and  uncomfortable  position  all  the  way, 
so  that  I  should  rest  as  easily  as  possible;  but  in 
some  subtle  manner  our  relationship  had  changed. 
I  had,  of  course,  been  their  prisoner  all  along,  but 
the  fact  only  came  home  to  me  now. 

From  Charing  Cross  we  went  in  a  cab  to  the 
prison,  through  the  sunny  streets,  so  quiet  at  this 
early  hour. 

"  Cheer  up,"  counselled  Freeman,  as  I  shook  hands 
11 


162  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

with  him  and  Harris,  from  whom  I  was  now,  of 
course,  unshackled.  "  You  '11  come  before  the  magis- 
trate to-morrow  or  next  day ;  depends  on  what  the 
doctor  says.  He  '11  see  you  directly.  You  '11  want 
to  communicate  with  your  friends  at  once,  of  course, 
and  start  arranging  about  your  defence.  I  can  send 
a  wire,  or  telephone  to  any  one  on  my  way  home 
if  you  like." 

He  really  was  an  astonishing  good  sort,  though 
he  had  been  implacable  on  the  handcuff  question. 

I  thanked  him,  and  gave  him  Jim  Cayley's  name 
and  address  and  telephone  number. 

"  All  right ;  I  '11  let  Mr.  Cayley  know  as  soon  as 
possible,"  he  said,  jotting  the  details  in  his  note- 
book. "  What  about  Lord  Southbourne?  " 

"  I  '11  send  word  to  him  later." 

I  felt  distinctly  guilty  with  respect  to  South- 
bourne.  I  ought,  of  course,  to  have  communicated 
with  him  —  or  rather  have  got  Freeman  to  do  so  — 
as  soon  as  I  began  to  pull  round ;  but  somehow  I  'd 
put  off  the  unpleasant  duty.  I  had  disobeyed  his 
express  instructions,  as  poor  Carson  had  done;  and 
the  disobedience  had  brought  its  own  punishment 
to  me,  as  to  Carson,  though  in  a  different  way;  but 
Southbourne  would  account  that  as  nothing.  He 
would  probably  ignore  me;  or  if  he  did  not  do  that, 
his  interest  would  be  strictly  impersonal,  —  limited 
to  the  amount  of  effective  copy  I  could  turn  out  as 
a  result  of  my  experiences. 

Therefore  I  was  considerably  surprised  when,  some 
hours  afterwards,  instead  of  Jim  Cayley,  whom  I 
was  expecting  every  moment,  Lord  Southboume  him- 
self was  brought  up  to  the  cell,  —  one  of  those  kept 


BACK  TO  ENGLAND  163 

for  prisoners  on  remand,  a  small  bare  room,  but 
comfortable  enough,  and  representing  the  acme  of 
luxury  in  comparison  with  the  crowded  den  in  which 
I  had  been  thrown  in  Petersburg. 

Lord  Southbourne's  heavy,  clean-shaven  face  was 
impassive  as  ever,  and  he  greeted  me  with  a  casual 
nod. 

"  Hello,  Wynn,  you  've  been  in  the  wars,  eh?  1 5ve 
seen  Freeman.  He  says  you  were  just  about  at  the 
last  gasp  when  he  got  hold  of  you,  and  is  pluming 
himself  no  end  on  having  brought  you  through  so 
well." 

"  So  he  ought !  "  I  conceded  cordially.  "  He  's  a 
jolly  good  sort,  and  it  would  have  been  all  up  with 
me  in  another  few  hours.  Though  how  on  earth 
he  could  fix  on  me  as  Cassavetti's  murderer,  I  can't 
imagine.  It 's  a  fool  business,  anyhow." 

"  H'm  —  yes,  I  suppose  so,"  drawled  Southbourne, 
in  that  exasperatingly  deliberate  way  of  his.  "  But 
I  think  you  must  blame  —  or  thank  —  me  for  that !  " 


CHAPTER    XXV 

SOUTHBOUBNE'S  SUSPICIONS 

"  \/'OU!    What  had  you  to  do  with  it?  "  I  ejacu- 

1     lated. 

"  Well,  Freeman  was  hunting  on  a  cold  scent ; 
yearning  to  arrest  some  one,  as  they  always  do  in 
a  murder  case.  He  'd  thought  of  you,  of  course. 
Considering  that  you  were  on  the  spot  at  the  time, 
I  wonder  he  did  n't  arrest  you  right  off ;  but  he  had 
formed  his  own  theory,  as  detectives  always  do,  and 
in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  they  're  utterly  wrong ! " 

"  Do  you  know  what  the  theory  was  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes.  He  believed  that  the  murder  was  committed 
by  a  woman;  simply  because  a  woman  must  have 
helped  to  ransack  the  rooms  during  Caissavetti's 
absence." 

"  How  did  he  know  that?  " 

"  How  did  you  know  it  ?  "  he  counter-queried. 

"  Because  he  told  me  at  the  time  that  a  woman 
had  been  in  the  rooms,  but  he  would  n't  say  any 
more,  except  that  she  was  red-haired,  or  fair-haired, 
and  well  dressed.  I  wondered  how  he  knew  that, 
but  he  would  n't  tell  me." 

"  He  has  never  told  me,"  Southbourne  said  com- 
placently. "  Though  I  guessed  it,  all  the  same,  and 
he  could  n't  deny  it,  when  I  asked  him.  She  dropped 
hairpins  about,  or  a  hairpin  rather,  —  women  always 
do  when  they  're  agitated,  —  an  expensive  gilt  hair- 


SOUTHBOURNE'S  SUSPICIONS         165 

pin.  That 's  how  he  knew  she  was  certainly  fair- 
haired,  and  probably  well  dressed." 

I  remembered  how,  more  than  once,  I  had  picked 
up  and  restored  to  Anne  a  hairpin  that  had  fallen 
from  her  glorious  hair.  Jim  and  Mary  Cayley  had 
often  chaffed  her  about  the  way  she  shed  her  hair- 
pins around." 

"  What  sort  of  hairpins  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  A  curved  thing.  He  showed  it  me  when  I  bowled 
him  out  about  them.  I  know  the  sort.  My  wife 
wears  them,  —  patent  things,  warranted  not  to  fall 
out,  so  they  always  do.  They  cost  half  a  crown  a 
packet  in  that  quality." 

I  knew  the  sort,  too,  and  knew  also  that  my 
former  suspicion  was  now  a  certainty.  Anne  had 
been  to  Cassavetti's  rooms  that  night ;  though  noth- 
ing would  ever  induce  me  to  believe  she  was  his 
murderess. 

"  Well,  I  fail  to  see  how  that  clue  could  have  led 
him  to  me,"  I  said,  forcing  a  laugh.  I  did  n't  mean 
to  let  Southbourne,  or  any  one  else,  guess  that  I 
knew  who  that  hairpin  had  belonged  to. 

"  It  did  n't ;  it  led  him  nowhere ;  though  I  believe 
he  spent  several  days  going  round  the  West  End 
hairdressers'  shops.  There 's  only  one  of  them,  a 
shop  in  the  Haymarket,  keeps  that  particular  kind 
of  hairpin,  and  they  snubbed  him ;  they  were  n't 
going  to  give  away  their  clients'  names.  And  there 
was  nothing  in  the  rooms  to  give  him  a  clue.  All 
Cassavetti's  private  papers  had  been  carried  off,  as 
you  know.  Then  there  was  the  old  Russian  you  told 
about  at  the  inquest.  He  seems  to  have  vanished 
off  the  face  of  the  earth;  for  nothing  has  been  seen 


166  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

or  heard  of  him.  So,  as  I  said,  Freeman  was  on  a 
cold  scent,  and  thought  of  you  again.  He  came  to 
me,  ostensibly  on  other  business.  I  'd  just  got  the 
wire  from  Petersburg  —  Nolan  of  The  Thunderer 
sent  it  —  saying  you  'd  walked  out  of  your  hotel 
three  nights  before,  and  had  n't  been  seen  or  heard 
of  since.  It  struck  me  that  the  quickest  way  to  trace 
you,  if  you  were  still  above  ground,  was  to  set  Free- 
man on  your  track  straight  away.  So  I  told  him 
at  once  of  your  disappearance ;  and  he  started  cross- 
questioning  me,  with  the  result,  —  well  —  he  went 
off  eventually  with  the  fixed  idea  that  you  were  more 
implicated  in  the  murder  than  had  appeared  possible 
at  the  time,  and  that  your  disappearance  was  in 
some  way  connected  with  it.  Wait  a  bit,  —  let  me 
finish!  The  next  I  heard  was  that  he  was  off  to 
St.  Petersburg  with  an  extradition  warrant ;  and, 
from  what  he  told  me  just  now,  he  was  just  in  time. 
Yes,  it  was  the  quickest  way ;  they  'd  never  have 
released  you  on  any  other  consideration ! " 

"  No,  I  guess  they  would  n't,"  I  responded. 
"  You  've  certainly  done  me  a  good  turn,  Lord 
Southbourne,  —  saved  my  life,  in  fact.  But  what 
about  this  murder  charge?  Is  it  a  farce,  or  what? 
You  don't  believe  I  murdered  the  man,  do  you?  " 

"  I  ?  Good  heavens,  no !  If  I  had  I  should  n't 
have  troubled  to  set  Freeman  on  you,"  he  answered 
languidly.  I  've  met  some  baffling  individuals,  but 
never  one  more  baffling  than  Southbourne. 

"  As  far  as  we  are  concerned  it  is  a  farce,  — 
though  he  does  n't  think  it  one.  He  imagines  he  's 
got  a  case  after  his  own  heart.  To  snatch  a  man 
out  of  the  jaws  of  death,  nurse  him  back  to  life,  and 


SOUTHBOURNE'S  SUSPICIONS         167 

hand  him  over  to  be  hanged ;  that 's  his  idea  of  a 
neat  piece  of  business.  But  it  will  be  all  right,  of 
course.  I  doubt  if  you  '11  even  be  sent  for  trial ; 
but  if  you  are,  no  jury  would  convict  you.  Any- 
how, I  've  sent  for  Sir  George  Lucas,  —  he  ought 
to  be  here  directly,  —  and  I  've  given  him  carte 
blanche,  at  my  expense,  of  course;  so  if  a  defence 
is  needed  you  '11  have  the  best  that 's  to  be  got." 

I  began  to  stammer  my  thanks  and  protestations. 
I  should  never  have  dreamed  of  engaging  the  famous 
lawyer,  who,  if  the  matter  did  not  prove  as  insignifi- 
cant as  Southbourne  seemed  to  anticipate,  and  I  had 
to  stand  my  trial,  would,  in  his  turn,  secure  an 
equally  famous  K.  C.,  —  a  luxury  far  beyond  my 
own  means. 

But  Southbourne  checked  me  at  the  outset. 

"  That 's  all  right,"  he  said  in  his  lazy  way.  "  I 
can't  afford  to  lose  a  good  man,  —  when  there 's 
a  chance  of  saving  him.  I  had  n't  the  chance  with 
Carson;  he  was  a  good  man,  too,  though  he  was  a 
fool,  —  as  you  are !  But,  after  all,  it 's  the  fools 
who  rush  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread;  therefore 
they  're  a  lot  more  valuable  in  modern  j  ournalism 
than  any  angel  could  be,  when  they  survive  their 
folly,  as  you  have  so  far!  and  now  I  want  to  know 
just  what  you  were  up  to  from  the  time  you  left 
your  hotel  till  you  were  handed  over  by  the  Russian 
authorities ;  that  is,  if  you  feel  equal  to  it.  If  not, 
another  time  will  do,  of  course." 

I  told  him  j  ust  as  much  —  or  as  little  —  as  I  had 
already  told  Freeman.  He  watched  me  intently  all 
the  time  from  under  his  heavy  lids,  and  nodded  as 
I  came  to  the  end  of  my  brief  recital. 


168  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"  You  '11  be  able  to  do  a  good  series ;  even  if 
you  're  committed  for  trial  you  '11  have  plenty  of 
time,  for  the  case  can't  come  on  till  September.  '  The 
Red  Terror  in  Russia '  will  do  for  the  title ;  we  '11 
publish  it  in  August,  and  you  must  pile  it  on  thick 
about  the  prison.  It 's  always  a  bit  difficult  to  rake 
up  sufficient  horrors  to  satisfy  the  public  in  the 
holidays;  what  gluttons  they  are!  But,  look  here, 
didn't  I  tell  you  not  to  meddle  with  this  sort  of 
thing?  " 

I  had  been  expecting  this  all  along,  and  was  ready 
for  it  now. 

"You  did.  But,  as  you've  just  said,  *  Fools 
rush  in,'  etcetera.  And  I  'm  quite  willing  to  acknowl- 
edge that  there 's  a  lot  more  of  fool  than  angel 
in  me." 

"  You  're  not  fool  enough  to  disobey  orders  with- 
out some  strong  motive,"  he  retorted.  "  So  now,  — 
why  did  you  go  to  that  meeting?  " 

I  was  determined  not  to  tell  him.  Anne  might  be 
dead,  or  in  a  Russian  prison,  which  was  worse  than 
death;  at  any  rate  nearly  two  thousand  miles  of 
sea  and  land  separated  us,  and  I  was  powerless  to 
aid  her,  —  as  powerless  as  I  had  been  while  I  lay  in 
the  prison  of  Peter  and  Paul.  But  there  was  one 
thing  I  could  still  do ;  I  could  guard  her  name,  her 
fame.  It  would  have  been  a  desecration  to  mention 
her  to  this  man  Southbourne.  True,  he  had  proved 
himself  my  good  and  generous  friend;  but  I  knew 
him  for  a  man  of  sordid  mind,  a  man  devoid  of  ideals, 
a  man  who  judged  everything  by  one  standard, — 
the  amount  of  effective  "  copy  "  it  would  produce. 
He  would  regard  her  career,  even  the  little  of  it  that 


SOUTHBOURNE'S  SUSPICIONS         169 

was  known  to  me,  as  "  excellent  material "  for  a 
sensational,  serial,  which  he  would  commission  one  of 
his  hacks  to  write.  No,  neither  he  nor  any  one  else 
should  ever  learn  aught  of  her  from  me;  her  name 
should  never,  if  I  could  help  it,  be  touched  and 
smirched  by  "  the  world's  coarse  thumb  and 
finger." 

So  I  answered  his  question  with  a  repetition  of  my 
first  statement. 

"  I  got  wind  of  the  meeting,  and  thought  I  'd  see 
what  it  was  like." 

"  Although  I  had  expressly  warned  you  not  to  do 
anything  of  the  kind?  " 

"  Well,  yes ;  but  still  you  usually  give  one  a  free 
hand." 

"  I  did  n't  this  time.  Was  the  woman  at  the 
meeting?  " 

"  What  woman  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  The  woman  whose  portrait  I  showed  you,  —  the 
portrait  Von  Eckhardt  found  in  Carson's  pocket. 
Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  at  the  time  that  you  knew 
her?" 

"  Simply  because  I  don't  know  her,"  I  answered, 
bracing  up  boldly  for  the  lie. 

"  And  yet  she  sat  next  to  Cassavetti  at  the  Savage 
Club  dinner,  an  hour  or  two  before  he  was  murdered ; 
and  you  talked  to  her  rather  confidentially,  —  under 
the  portico." 

I  tried  bluff  once  more,  though  it  does  n't  come 
easily  to  me.  I  looked  him  straight  in  the  face  and 
said  deliberately: 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  you,  Lord  Southbourne. 
That  lady  at  the  Hotel  Cecil  was  Miss  Anne  Pen- 


170  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

dennis,  a  friend  of  my  cousin,  Mrs.  Cayley.  Do  you 
know  her?  " 

"  Well  —  no." 

"  Then  who  on  earth  made  you  think  she  was  the 
original  of  that  portrait?  " 

"  Cayley  the  dramatist ;  he  's  your  cousin's  hus- 
band, is  n't  he  ?  I  showed  the  portrait  to  him,  and 
he  recognized  it  at  once." 

This  was  rather  a  facer,  and  I  felt  angry  with 
Jim! 

"  Oh,  Jim !  "  I  said  carelessly.  "  He  's  almost  as 
blind  as  a  mole,  and  he's  no  judge  of  likenesses. 
Why  he  always  declares  that  Gertie  Millar 's  the 
living  image  of  Edna  May,  and  he  can't  tell  a  por- 
trait of  one  from  the  other  without  looking  at  the 
name  (this  was  quite  true,  and  we  had  often  chipped 
Jim  about  it).  There  was  a  superficial  likeness  of 
course ;  I  saw  it  myself  at  the  time." 

"  You  did  n't  mention  it." 

"  Why,  no,  I  did  n't  think  it  necessary." 

"And  the  initials?" 

"  A  mere  coincidence.  They  stand  for  Anna  Pe- 
trovna.  Von  Eckhardt  told  me  that.  I  saw  him  in 
Berlin.  She  's  a  well-known  Nihilist,  and  the  police 
are  after  her  in  Russia.  So  you  see,  if  you  or  any 
others  are  imagining  there  's  any  connection  between 
her  and  Miss  Pendennis,  you  're  quite  wrong." 

"  H'm,"  he  said  enigmatically,  and  I  was  im- 
mensely reh'eved  that  a  warder  opened  the  door  at 
that  moment  and  showed  in  Sir  George  Lucas. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are,  Lucas,"  said  Southbourne, 
rising  and  shaking  hands  with  him.  "  This  is  your 
client,  Mr.  Wynn.  I  '11  be  off  now.  See  you  again 


SOUTHBOURNE'S   SUSPICIONS         171 

before  long,  but  I  '11  give  you  a  bit  of  advice,  with 
Sir  George's  permission.  Never  prevaricate  to  your 
lawyer ;  tell  him  everything  right  out.  That 's  all." 
"  Thanks ;  I  guess  that 's  excellent  advice,  and 
I  '11  take  it,"  I  said. 


CHAPTER    XXVI 


1DID  take  Lord  Southbourne's  advice,  partly ;  for 
in  giving  Sir  George  Lucas  a  minute  account 
of  my  movements  on  the  night  of  the  murder,  I  did 
not  prevaricate,  but  I  made  two  reservations,  neither 
of  which,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  affected  my  own  case 
in  the  least. 

I  made  no  mention  of  the  conversation  I  had  with 
the  old  Russian  in  my  own  flat ;  or  of  the  incident  of 
the  boat.  If  I  kept  silence  on  those  two  points,  I 
argued  to  myself,  it  was  improbable  that  Anne's 
name  would  be  dragged  into  the  matter.  For  what- 
ever those  meddling  idiots,  Southbourne  or  Jim 
Cayley  (I  'd  have  it  out  with  Jim  as  soon  as  I  saw 
him!),  might  suspect,  they  at  least  did  not  know  for 
a  certainty  of  her  identity  as  Anna 'Petrovna,  of  her 
presence  in  Cassavetti's  rooms  that  night,  or  of  her 
expedition  on  the  river. 

Sir  George  cross-examined  me  closely  as  to  my 
relation  with  Cassavetti ;  we  always  spoke  of  him 
by  that  name,  rather  than  by  his  own,  which  was  so 
much  less  familiar;  and  on  that  point  I  could,  of 
course,  answer  him  frankly  enough.  Our  acquaint- 
anceship had  been  of  the  most  casual  kind ;  he  had 
been  to  my  rooms  several  times,  but  had  never  invited 
me  to  his.  I  had  only  been  in  them  thrice ;  the  first 
time  when  I  unlocked  the  door  with  the  pass-key  with 
which  the  old  Russian  had  tried  to  unlock  my  door, 


WHAT   JIM  CAYLEY  KNEW  173 

and  then  I  had  n't  really  gone  inside,  only  looked 
round,  and  called ;  and  the  other  occasions  were 
when  I  broke  open  the  door  and  found  him  murdered, 
and  returned  in  company  with  the  police. 

"  You  saw  nothing  suspicious  that  first  time?  "  he 
asked.  "  You  are  sure  there  was  no  one  in  the  rooms 
then?" 

"  Well,  I  can't  be  certain.  I  only  just  looked  in; 
and  then  ran  down  again ;  I  was  in  a  desperate 
hurry,  for  I  was  late,  as  it  was ;  I  thought  the  whole 
thing  a  horrible  bore,  but  I  could  n't  leave  the  old 
man  fainting  on  the  stairs.  Cassavetti  certainly 
was  n't  in  his  rooms  then,  anyhow,  and  I  should  n't 
think  any  one  else  was ;  for  he  told  me  afterwards, 
at  dinner,  that  he  came  in  before  seven.  He  must 
have  just  missed  the  old  man." 

"  What  became  of  the  key?  " 

"  I  gave  it  back  to  the  old  man." 

"  Although  you  thought  it  strange  that  such  a 
person  should  be  in  possession  of  it?  " 

"Well,  it  wasn't  my  affair,  was  it?"  I  remon- 
strated. "  I  did  n't  give  him  the  key  in  the  first 
instance." 

"  Now  will  you  tell  me,  Mr.  Wynn,  why,  when  you 
left  Lord  Southbourne,  you  did  not  go  straight 
home?  That 's  a  point  that  may  prove  important." 

"  I  didn't  feel  inclined  to  turn  in  just  then,  so  I 
went  for  a  stroll." 

"In  the  rain?" 

"  It  was  n't  raining  then ;  it  was  a  lovely  night 
for  a  little  while,  till  the  second  storm  came  on,  and 
my  hat  blew  off." 

"  And  when  you  got  in  you  heard  no  sound  from 


174  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

Mr.  Cassavetti's  rooms?  They're  just  over  yours, 
are  n't  they  ?  Nothing  at  all,  either  during  the  night 
or  next  morning?  " 

"  Nothing.  I  was  out  all  the  morning,  and  when 
I  came  in  I  fetched  up  the  housekeeper  to  help  me 
pack.  It  was  he  who  remarked  how  quiet  the  place 
was.  Besides,  the  poor  chap  had  evidently  been  killed 
as  soon  as  he  got  home." 

"  Just  so,  but  the  rooms  might  have  been  ran- 
sacked after  and  not  before  the  murder,"  Sir  George 
said  dryly.  "  Though  I  don't  think  that 's  probable. 
Well,  Mr.  Wynn,  you  've  told  me  everything?  " 

"  Everything,"  I  answered  promptly. 

"  Then  we  shall  see  what  the  other  side  have  to  say 
at  the  preliminary  hearing." 

He  chatted  for  a  few  minutes  about  my  recent  ad- 
ventures in  Russia ;  and  then,  to  my  relief,  took 
himself  off.  I  felt  just  about  dead  beat! 

In  the  course  of  the  day  I  got  a  wire  from  Jim  Cay- 
ley,  handed  in  at  Morwen,  a  little  place  in  Cornwall. 

"  Returning  to  town  at  once ;  be  with  you  to- 
morrow." 

He  turned  up  early  next  morning. 

"  Good  heavens,  Maurice,  what 's  all  this  about  ?  " 
he  demanded.  "  We  've  been  wondering  why  we 
did  n't  hear  from  you ;  and  now  —  why,  man,  you  're 
an  utter  wreck !  " 

"  No,  I  'm  not.  I  'm  getting  round  all  right  now," 
I  assured  him.  "  I  got  into  a  bit  of  a  scrimmage, 
and  then  into  prison.  They  very  nearly  did  for  me 
there ;  but  I  guess  I  Ve  as  many  lives  as  a  cat." 

"  But  this  murder  charge?  It 's  in  the  papers 
this  morning;  look  here." 


WHAT  JIM   CAYLEY  KNEW  175 

He  held  out  a  copy  of  The  Courier,  pointing  to  a 
column  headed: 

"  THE  WESTMINSTER  MURDER. 
ARREST  OF  A  WELL-KNOWN  JOURNALIST," 

and  further  down  I  saw  among  the  cross  headings: 
"  Romantic  Circumstances" 

"  Half  a  minute ;  let 's  have  a  look,"  I  exclaimed, 
snatching  the  paper,  fearing  lest  under  that  par- 
ticular cross-heading  there  might  be  some  allusion 
to  Anne,  or  the  portrait.  But  there  was  not;  the 
"  romantic  circumstances  "  were  merely  those  under 
which  the  arrest  was  effected.  Whoever  had  writ- 
ten it,  —  Southbourne  himself  probably,  —  had  laid 
it  on  pretty  thick  about  the  special  correspondents 
of  The  Courier  obtaining  "  at  the  risk  of  their  lives 
the  exclusive  information  on  which  the  public  had 
learned  to  rely,"  and  a  lot  more  rot  of  that  kind, 
together  with  a  highly  complimentary  precis  of  my 
career,  and  a  hint  that  before  long  a  full  account  of 
my  thrilling  experiences  would  be  published  exclu- 
sively in  The  Courier.  Southbourne  never  lost  a 
chance  of  advertisement. 

The  article  ended  with  the  announcement :  "  Sir 
George  Lucas  has  undertaken  the  defence,  and  Mr. 
Wynn  is,  of  course,  prepared  with  a  full  answer  to 
the  charge." 

"  Well,  that  seems  all  right,  does  n't  it  ?  "  I  asked 
coolly. 

"  All  right  ?  "  spluttered  Jim,  who  was  more  upset 
than  I  'd  ever  seen  him.  "  You  seem  to  regard  being 
run  in  for  murder  as  an  everyday  occurrence ! " 


176  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"  Well,  it 's  preferable  to  being  in  prison  in  Russia ! 
If  Freeman  had  n't  taken  it  into  his  thick  head  to 
fix  on  me,  I  should  have  been  dead  and  gone  to  glory 
by  this  time.  Look  here,  Jim,  there  's  nothing  to 
worry  about,  really.  I  asked  Freeman  to  wire  or 
'phone  to  you  yesterday  when  we  arrived,  thinking, 
of  course,  you  'd  be  at  Chelsea ;  then  Southbourne 
turned  up,  and  was  awfully  good.  He  's  arranged 
for  my  defence,  so  there  's  nothing  more  to  be  done 
at  present.  The  case  will  come  before  the  magis- 
trate to-morrow ;  so  far  as  I  'm  concerned  I  'd  rather 
it  had  come  on  to-day.  I  don't  suppose  for  an  in- 
stant they  '11  send  me  for  trial.  The  police  can't 
have  anything  but  the  flimsiest  circumstantial  evi- 
dence against  me.  I  guess  I  need  n't  assure  you 
that  I  did  n't  murder  the  man !  " 

He  looked  at  me  queerly  through  his  glasses ;  and 
I  experienced  a  faint,  but  distinctly  uncomfortable, 
thrill.  Could  it  be  possible  that  he,  who  knew  me 
so  well,  could  imagine  for  a  moment  that  I  was 
guilty? 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  you  did  it,  my  boy,"  he  said 
slowly.  "  But  I  do  believe  you  know  a  lot  more 
about  it  than  you  owned  up  to  at  the  time.  Have 
you  forgotten  that  Sunday  night  —  the  last  time  I 
saw  you?  Because  if  you  have,  I  haven't!  I  taxed 
you  then  with  knowing  —  or  suspecting  —  that  Anne 
Pendennis  was  mixed  up  with  the  affair  in  some  way 
or  other.  It  was  your  own  manner  that  roused  my 
suspicions  then,  as  well  as  her  flight;  for  it  was 
flight,  as  we  both  know  now.  If  I  had  done  my  duty 
I  should  have  set  the  police  on  her ;  but  I  did  n't, 
chiefly  for  Mary's  sake,  —  she  's  fretting  herself  to 


WHAT  JIM   CAYLEY  KNEW  177 

fiddle-strings  about  the  jade  already,  and  it  would 
half  kill  her  if  she  knew  what  the  girl  really  was." 

"  Stop,"  I  said,  very  quietly.  "  If  you  were  any 
other  man,  I  would  call  you  a  liar,  Jim  Cayley.  But 
you  're  Mary's  husband  and  my  old  friend,  so  I  '11 
only  say  you  don't  know  what  you  're  talking  about." 

"  I  do,"  he  persisted.  "  It  is  you  who  don't  or 
pretend  you  don't.  I  've  learned  something  even 
since  you  've  been  away.  I  told  you  I  believed  both 
she  and  her  father  were  mixed  up  with  political  in- 
trigues ;  I  spoke  then  on  mere  suspicion.  But  I 
was  right.  She  belongs  to  the  same  secret  society 
that  Cassavetti  was  connected  with;  there  was  an 
understanding  between  them  that  night,  though  it 's 
quite  possible  they  had  n't  met  each  other  before. 
Do  you  remember  she  gave  him  a  red  geranium? 
That 's  their  precious  symbol." 

"  Did  you  say  all  this  to  Southbourne  when  he 
showed  you  the  portrait  that  was  found  on  Carson  ?  " 
I  interrupted. 

"  What,  you  know  about  the  portrait,  too  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  he  showed  it  me  that  same  night,  when 
I  went  to  him  after  the  dinner.  It 's  not  Anne  Pen- 
dennis  at  all." 

"  But  it  is,  man ;  I  recognized  it  the  moment  I 
saw  it,  before  he  told  me  anything  about  it." 

"  You  recognized  it !  "  I  echoed  scornfully.  "  We 
all  know  you  can  never  recognize  a  portrait  unless 
you  see  the  name  underneath.  There  was  a  kind  of 
likeness.  I  saw  it  myself ;  but  it  was  n't  Anne's 
portrait!  Now  just  you  tell  me,  right  now,  what 
you  said  to  Southbourne.  Any  of  this  nonsense 
about  her  and  Cassavetti  and  the  red  symbol?  " 

12 


178  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"  No,"  he  answered  impatiently.  "  I  put  two  and 
two  together  and  made  that  out  for  myself,  and  I  've 
never  mentioned  it  to  a  soul  but  you." 

I  breathed  more  freely  when  I  heard  that. 

"  I  just  said  when  I  looked  at  the  thing:  '  Hello, 
that 's  Anne  Pendennis,'  and  at  that  he  began  to 
question  me  about  her,  and  I  guessed  he  had  some  mo- 
tive, so  I  was  cautious.  I  only  told  him  she  was 
my  wife's  old  school  friend,  who  had  been  staying 
with  us,  but  that  I  did  n't  know  very  much  about 
her;  she  lived  on  the  Continent  with  her  father,  and 
had  gone  back  to  him.  You  see  I  reckoned  it  was 
none  of  my  business,  or  his,  and  I  meant  to  screen 
the  girl,  for  Mary's  sake,  and  yours.  But  now,  this 
has  come  up ;  and  you  're  arrested  for  murdering 
Cassavetti.  Upon  my  soul,  Maurice,  I  believe  I  ought 
to  have  spoken  out !  And  if  you  stand  in  danger." 

"  Listen  to  me,  Jim  Cayley,"  I  said  determinedly. 
"  You  will  give  me  your  word  of  honor  that,  what- 
ever happens,  you  '11  never  so  much  as  mention  Anne's 
name,  either  in  connection  with  that  portrait  or 
Cassavetti ;  that  you  '11  never  give  any  one  even  a 
hint  that  she  might  have  been  concerned  —  however 
innocently  —  in  this  murder." 

"  But  if  things  go  against  you  ?  " 

"  That 's  my  lookout.  Will  you  give  your  word 
—  and  keep  it?  " 

"No." 

"  Very  well.  If  you  don't,  I  swear  I  '11  plead 
'  Guilty  '  to-morrow !  " 


CHAPTER    XXVH 

AT    THE    POLICE    COURT 

rilHE  threat  was  sufficient  and  Jim  capitulated. 
A  "  Though  you  are  a  quixotic  fool,  Maurice, 
and  no  mistake,"  he  asserted  vehemently. 

"  Tell  me  something  I  don't  know,"  I  suggested. 
"  Something  pleasant,  for  a  change.  How  's  Mary?" 

"  Not  at  all  well ;  that 's  why  we  went  down  to 
Cornwall  last  week ;  we  've  taken  a  cottage  there 
for  the  summer.  The  town  is  frightfully  stuffy,  and 
the  poor  little  woman  is  quite  done  up.  She  's  been 
worrying  about  Anne,  too,  as  I  said ;  and  now  she  '11 
be  worrying  about  you !  She  wanted  to  come  up 
with  me  yesterday,  when  I  got  the  wire,  —  it  was 
forwarded  from  Chelsea,  —  but  I  would  n't  let  her ; 
and  she  '11  be  awfully  upset  when  she  sees  the  papers 
to-day.  We  don't  get  'em  till  the  afternoon  down 
there." 

"  Well,  let  her  have  a  wire  beforehand,"  I  coun- 
selled. "  Tell  her  I  'm  all  right,  and  send  her  my 
love.  You  '11  turn  up  at  the  court  to-morrow  to  see 
me  through,  I  suppose  ?  Tell  Mary  I  '11  probably 
come  down  to  Morwen  with  you  on  Friday.  That  '11 
cheer  her  up  no  end." 

"  I  hope  you  may !  But  suppose  it  goes  against 
you,  and  you  're  committed  for  trial?  "  Jim  demanded 
gloomily.  His  customary  cheeriness  seemed  to  have 
deserted  him  altogether  at  this  juncture. 


180  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"  I  'm  not  going  to  suppose  anything  so  unpleas- 
ant till  I  have  to,"  I  asserted.  "  Be  off  with  you, 
and  send  that  wire  to  Mary !  " 

I  wanted  to  get  rid  of  him.  He  was  n't  exactly 
an  inspiriting  companion  just  now;  besides,  I 
thought  it  possible  that  Southbourne  might  come 
to  see  me  again ;  and  I  had  determined  to  tackle 
him  about  that  portrait,  and  try  to  exact  the  same 
pledge  from  him  that  I  had  from  Jim.  He  might, 
of  course,  have  shown  it  to  a  dozen  people,  as  he 
had  to  Jim;  and  on  the  other  hand  he  might 
not. 

He  came  right  enough,  and  I  opened  on  him  at 
once.  He  looked  at  me  in  his  lazy  way,  through 
half-closed  lids,  —  I  don't  think  I  've  ever  seen  that 
man  open  his  eyes  full,  —  and  smiled. 

"  So  you  do  know  the  lady,  after  all,"  he  re- 
marked. 

"  I  'm  not  talking  of  the  original  of  the  portrait, 
but  of  Miss  Pendennis,"  I  retorted  calmly.  "  I  've 
seen  Cayley,  and  he's  quite  ready  to  acknowl- 
edge that  he  was  misled  by  the  likeness;  but  so 
may  other  people  be  if  you  've  been  showing  it 
around." 

"  Well,  no ;  as  it  happens,  I  have  n't  done  that. 
Only  you  and  he  have  seen  it,  besides  myself.  I 
showed  it  him  because  I  knew  you  and  he  were  in- 
timate, and  I  wanted  to  see  if  he  would  recognize 
her,  as  you  did,  —  or  thought  you  did,  —  when  I 
showed  it  you,  though  you  would  n't  own  up  to  it. 
I  'm  really  curious  to  know  who  the  original  is." 

"  So  am  I,  to  a  certain  extent ;  but  anyhow,  she  's 
not  Miss  Pendennis ! "  I  said  decisively ;  though 


AT  THE  POLICE  COURT  181 

whether  he  believed  me  or  not  I  can't  say.  "  And 
I  won't  have  her  name  even  mentioned  in  connection 
with  that  portrait !  " 

"  And  therefore  with,  —  but  no  matter,"  he  said 
slowly.  "  I  wish,  for  your  own  sake,  and  not  merely 
to  satisfy  my  curiosity,  that  you  would  be  frank 
with  me,  or,  if  not  with  me,  at  least  with  Sir 
George.  However,  I  '11  do  what  you  ask.  I  '11  make 
no  further  attempts,  at  present,  to  discover  the 
original  of  that  portrait." 

That  was  not  precisely  what  I  had  asked  him,  but 
I  let  it  pass.  I  knew  by  his  way  of  saying  it  that 
he  shared  my  conviction  —  and  Jim's  —  that  it  was 
Anne's  portrait  right  enough ;  but  I  had  gained  my 
point,  and  that  was  the  main  thing. 

The  hearing  at  the  police  court  next  day  was 
more  of  an  ordeal  than  I  had  anticipated,  chiefly 
because  of  my  physical  condition.  I  had  seemed 
astonishingly  fit  when  I  started,  —  in  a  cab,  accom- 
panied by  a  couple  of  policemen,  —  considering  the 
extent  of  my  injuries,  and  the  sixty  hours'  journey 
I  had  just  come  through;  and  I  was  anxious  to 
get  the  thing  over.  But  when  I  got  into  the  crowded 
court,  where  I  saw  numbers  of  familiar  faces,  in- 
cluding Mary's  little  white  one,  —  she  had  come  up 
from  Cornwall  after  all,  bless  her !  —  I  suddenly  felt 
myself  as  weak  as  a  cat.  I  was  allowed  a  seat  in 
the  dock,  and  I  leaned  back  in  it  with  what  was 
afterwards  described  by  the  reporters  as  "  an  apa- 
thetic air,"  though  I  was  really  trying  my  hardest 
to  avoid  making  an  ass  of  myself  by  fainting  out- 
right. That  effort  occupied  all  the  energy  I  had, 
and  I  only  heard  scraps  of  the  evidence,  which 


seemed,  to  my  dulled  brain,  to  refer  to  some  one 
else  and  not  to  me  at  all. 

At  last  there  came  a  confused  noise,  shouting  and 
clapping,  and  above  it  a  stentorian  voice. 

"  Silence !     Silence  in  the  court !  " 

Some  one  grasped  my  right  arm  —  just  where 
the  bandage  was,  though  he  did  n't  know  that  — 
and  hurt  me  so  badly  that  I  started  up  involun- 
tarily, to  find  Sir  George  and  Southbourne  just  in 
front  of  the  dock  holding  out  their  hands  to  me, 
and  I  heard  a  voice  somewhere  near. 

"  Come  along,  sir,  this  way ;  you  can  follow  to 
the  ante-room,  gentlemen;  can't  have  a  demonstra- 
tion in  Court." 

I  felt  myself  guided  along  by  the  grip  on  my 
arm  that  was  like  a  red-hot  vice;  there  were  people 
pressing  about  me,  all  talking  at  once,  and  shaking 
hands  with  me. 

I  heard  Southbourne  say,  sharper  and  quicker 
than  I  'd  ever  heard  him  speak  before : 

"  Here,  look  out !     Stand  back,  some  of  you !  " 

The  next  I  knew  I  was  lying  on  a  leather  sofa 
with  my  head  resting  on  something  soft.  My  collar 
and  tie  lay  on  the  floor  beside  me,  and  my  face  was 
wet,  and  something  warm  splashed  down  on  it,  just 
as  I  began  to  try  and  recollect  what  had  happened. 
Then  I  found  that  I  was  resting  on  Mary's  shoul- 
der, and  she  was  crying  softly;  it  was  one  of  her 
tears  that  was  trickling  down  my  nose  at  this  in- 
stant. She  wiped  it  off  with  her  damp  little 
handkerchief. 

"  You  poor  boy ;  you  gave  us  a  real  fright  this 
time,"  she  exclaimed,  smiling  through  her  tears,  — 


AT  THE  POLICE  COURT  183 

a  wan  little  ghost  of  a  smile.  "  But  we  '11  soon  have 
you  all  right  again  when  we  get  you  home." 

"  I  'm  all  right  now,  dear ;  I  'm  sorry  I  've  upset 
you  so,"  I  said,  and  Jim  bustled  forward  with  some 
brandy  in  a  flask,  and  helped  me  sit  up. 

I  saw  then  that  Sir  George  and  Southbourne  were 
still  in  the  room;  the  lawyer  was  sitting  on  a  table 
close  by,  watching  me  through  his  gold-rimmed  pince- 
nez,  and  Southbourne  was  standing  with  his  back  to 
us,  staring  out  of  the  window. 

"  What 's  happened,  anyhow  ?  "  I  asked,  and  Sir 
George  got  off  the  table  and  came  up  to  me. 

"  Charge  dismissed ;  I  congratulate  you,  Mr. 
Wynn,"  he  said  genially.  "  There  was  n't  a  shred 
of  real  evidence  against  you ;  though  they  tried  to 
make  a  lot  out  of  that  bit  of  withered  geranium 
found  in  your  waste-paper  basket;  just  because  the 
housekeeper  remembered  that  Cassavetti  had  a  red 
flower  in  his  buttonhole  when  he  came  in;  but  I 
was  able  to  smash  that  point  at  once,  thanks  to  your 
cousin." 

He  bowed  towards  Mary,  who,  as  soon  as  she 
saw  me  recovering,  had  slipped  away,  and  was 
pretending  to  adjust  her  hat  before  a  dingy 
mirror. 

"  Why,  what  did  Mary  do?  " 

"  Passed  me  a  note  saying  that  you  had  the 
buttonhole  when  you  left  the  Cecil.  I  called  her  as 
a  witness  and  she  gave  her  evidence  splendidly." 

"  Lots  of  the  men  had  them,"  Mary  put  in  hur- 
riedly. "  I  had  one,  too,  and  so  did  Anne  —  quite 
a  bunch.  And  my !  I  should  like  to  know  what  that 
housekeeper  had  been  about  not  to  empty  the  waste- 


184  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

paper  basket  before.  I  don't  suppose  he  's  touched 
your  rooms  since  you  left  them,  Maurice !  " 

"  It  might  have  been  a  very  difficult  point,"  Sir 
George  continued  j  udicially ;  "  the  only  one,  in  fact. 
For  Lord  Southbourne's  evidence  disposed  of  the 
theory  the  police  had  formed  that  you  had  returned 
earlier  in  the  evening,  and  that  when  you  did  go 
in  and  found  the  door  open  your  conduct  was  a  mere 
feint  to  avert  suspicion.  And  then  there  was  the 
entire  lack  of  motive,  and  the  derivative  evidence  that 
more  than  one  person  —  and  one  of  them  a  woman 
—  had  been  engaged  in  ransacking  the  rooms.  Yes, 
it  was  a  preposterous  charge !  " 

"  But  it  served  its  purpose  all  right,"  drawled 
Southbourne,  strolling  forward.  "  They  'd  have 
taken  their  time  if  I  'd  set  them  on  your  track 
just  because  you  had  disappeared.  Congratulations, 
Wynn.  You  've  had  more  than  enough  handshak- 
ing, so  I  won't  inflict  any  more  on  you.  Wonder 
what  scrape  you  '11  find  yourself  in  next?  " 

"  He  won't  have  the  chance  of  getting  into  any 
more  for  some  time  to  come.  I  shall  take  care  of 
that !  "  Mary  asserted,  with  pretty  severity.  "  Put 
his  collar  on,  Jim ;  and  we  '11  get  him  into  the 
brougham." 

"  My  motor 's  outside,  Mrs.  Cayley.  Do  have 
that.  It 's  quicker  and  roomier.  Come  on,  Wynn ; 
take  my  arm ;  that 's  all  right.  You  stand  by  on 
his  other  side,  Cayley.  Sir  George,  will  you  take 
Mrs.  Cayley  and  fetch  the  motor  round  to  the  side 
entrance?  We '11  follow." 

I  guess  I  'd  mis  j  udged  him  in  the  days  when  I  'd 
thought  him  a  cold-blooded  cynic.  He  had  certainly 


185 

proved  a  good  friend  to  me  right  through  this 
episode,  and  now,  impassive  as  ever,  he  helped  me 
along  and  stowed  me  into  the  big  motor. 

Half  the  journalists  in  London  seemed  to  be  wait- 
ing outside,  and  raised  a  cheer  as  we  appeared. 
Mary  declared  that  it  was  quite  a  triumphant  exit. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

WITH    MARY    AT    MORWEN 

IT  'S  terrible,  Maurice !  If  only  I  could  have  a 
line,  even  a  wire,  from  her,  or  her  father,  just 
to  say  she  was  alive,  I  wouldn't  mind  so  much." 

"  She  may  have  written  and  the  letter  got  lost  in 
transit,"  I  suggested. 

"  Then  why  did  n't  she  write  again,  or  wire?  "  per- 
sisted Mary.  "  And  there  are  her  clothes ;  why,  she 
had  n't  even  a  second  gown  with  her.  I  believe  she  's 
dead,  Maurice ;  I  do  indeed !  " 

She  began  to  cry  softly,  poor,  dear  little  woman, 
and  I  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  comfort  her.  I 
dare  not  give  her  the  sh'ghtest  hint  as  to  what  had 
befallen  Anne,  or  of  my  own  agony  of  mind  con- 
cerning her;  for  that  would  only  have  added  to  her 
distress.  And  I  knew  now  why  it  was  imperative 
that  she  should  be  spared  any  extra  worry,  and,  if 
possible,  be  reassured  about  her  friend. 

"  Nonsense !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  You  'd  have  heard 
soon  enough  if  anything  had  happened  to  her.  And 
the  clothes  prove  nothing ;  her  father  's  a  wealthy 
man,  and,  when  she  found  the  things  did  n't  arrive, 
she  'd  just  buy  more.  Depend  upon  it,  her  father 
went  to  meet  her  when  he  left  the  hotel  at  Berlin, 
and  they  're  jaunting  off  on  their  travels  together 
all  right." 

"  I  don't  believe  it !  "  she  cried  stormily.     "  Anne 


WITH  MARY  AT  MORWEN  187 

would  have  written  to  me  again  and  again,  rather 
than  let  me  endure  this  suspense.  And  if  one  letter 
went  astray  it 's  impossible  that  they  all  should. 
But  you  —  I  can't  understand  you,  Maurice !  You  're 
as  unsympathetic  as  Jim,  and  yet  —  I  thought  —  I 
was  sure  —  you  loved  her !  " 

This  was  almost  more  than  I  could  stand. 

"  God  knows  I  do  love  her ! "  I  said  as  steadily  as 
I  could.  "  She  will  always  be  the  one  woman  in  the 
world  for  me,  Mary,  even  if  I  never  see  or  hear  of 
her  again.  But  I  'm  not  going  to  encourage  you  in 
all  this  futile  worry,  nor  is  Jim.  He  's  not  unsym- 
pathetic, really,  but  he  knows  how  bad  it  is  for  you, 
as  you  ought  to  know,  too.  Anne  's  your  friend, 
and  you  love  her  dearly  —  but  —  remember,  you  're 
Jim's  wife,  and  more  precious  to  him  than  all  the 
world." 

She  flushed  hotly  at  that;  I  saw  it,  though  I  was 
careful  not  to  look  directly  at  her. 

"  Yes,  I  —  I  know  that,"  she  said,  almost  in  a 
whisper.  "  And  I  '11  try  not  to  worry,  for  his,  — 
for  all  our  sakes.  You  're  right,  you  dear,  kind  old 
boy;  but  —  " 

"  We  can  do  nothing,"  I  went  on.  "  Even  if  she 
is  ill,  or  in  danger,  we  can  do  nothing  till  we  have 
news  of  her.  But  she  is  in  God's  hands,  as  we  all 
are,  little  woman." 

"  I  do  pray  for  her,  Maurice,"  she  avowed  pite- 
ously.  "  But  —  but  —  " 

"  That 's  all  you  can  do,  dear,  but  it  is  much  also. 
More  things  are  wrought  by  prayer  than  this  world 
dreams  of.  Keep  on  praying  —  and  trusting  —  and 
the  prayers  will  be  answered." 


188  THE  RED   SYMBOL 

She  looked  at  me  through  her  teats,  lovingly,  but 
with  some  astonishment. 

"  Why,  Maurice,  I  Ve  never  heard  you  talk  like 
that  before." 

"  I  could  n't  have  said  it  to  any  one  but  you,  dear," 
I  said  gruffly;  and  we  were  silent  for  a  spell.  But 
she  understood  me,  for  we  both  come  from  the  same 
sturdy  old  Puritan  stock;  we  were  both  born  and 
reared  in  the  faith  of  our  fathers ;  and  in  this  period 
of  doubt  and  danger  and  suffering  it  was  strange 
how  the  old  teaching  came  back  to  me,  the  firm  fixed 
belief  in  God  "  our  refuge  and  strength,  a  very 
present  help  in  trouble."  That  faith  had  led  our 
fathers  to  the  New  World,  three  centuries  ago,  had 
sustained  them  from  one  generation  to  another,  in 
the  face  of  difficulties  and  dangers  incalculable ;  had 
made  of  them  a  great  nation ;  and  I  knew  it  now 
for  my  most  precious  heritage. 

"  /  should  utterly  have  fainted;  but  that  I  believe 
verily  to  see  the  goodness  of  the  Lord  in  the  land  of 
the  living.  O  tarry  thou  the  Lord's  leisure;  be 
strong  and  He  shall  comfort  thy  heart;  and  put  thou 
thy  trust  in  the  Lord. 

"  Through  God  we  will  do  great  acts;  and  it  is 
He  that  shall  tread  down  our  enemies" 

Half  forgotten  for  so  many  years,  but  familiar 
enough  in  my  boyhood,  —  when  my  father  read  a 
psalm  aloud  every  morning  before  breakfast,  and 
his  wrath  fell  on  any  member  of  the  household  who 
was  absent  from  "  the  reading,"  —  the  old  words 
recurred  to  me  with  a  new  significance  in  the  long 
hours  when  I  lay  brooding  over  the  mystery  and 
peril  which  encompassed  the  girl  I  loved.  They 


WITH  MARY  AT  MORWEN  189 

brought  strength  and  assurance  to  my  soul;  they 
saved  me  from  madness  during  that  long  period  of 
forced  inaction  that  followed  my  collapse  at  the 
police  court. 

Mary,  and  Jim,  too,  —  every  one  about  me,  in  fact, 

—  despaired  of  my  life  for  many  days,  and  now  that 
I  was  again  convalescent  and  they  brought  me  down 
to  the  Cornish  cottage,  my  strength  returned  very 
slowly;    but  all  the  more  surely  since  I  was  deter- 
mined, as  soon  as  possible,  to  go  in  search  of  Anne, 
and  I  knew  I  could  not  undertake  that  quest  with  any 
hope  of  success  unless  I  was  physically  fit. 

I  had  not  divulged  my  intention  to  any  one,  nor 
did  I  mean  to  do  so  if  I  could  avoid  it;  certainly  I 
would  not  allow  Mary  even  to  suspect  my  purpose. 
At  present  I  could  make  no  plans,  except  that  of 
course  I  should  have  to  return  to  Russia  under  an 
assumed  name ;  and  as  a  further  precaution  I  took 
advantage  of  my  illness  to  grow  a  beard  and  mus- 
tache. They  had  already  got  beyond  the  "  stubby  " 
and  disreputable  stage,  and  changed  my  appearance 
marvellously. 

Mary  objected  strenuously  to  the  innovation,  and 
declared  it  made  me  "  look  like  a  middle-aged  for- 
eigner," which  was  precisely  the  effect  I  hoped  for; 
though,  naturally,  I  did  n't  let  her  know  that. 

Under  any  other  circumstances  I  would  have  thor- 
oughly enjoyed  my  stay  with  her  and  Jim  at  the 
cottage,  a  quaint,  old-fashioned  place,  with  a  beauti- 
ful garden,  sloping  down  to  the  edge  of  the  cliffs, 
where  I  was  content  to  sit  for  hours,  watching  the 
sea  —  calm  and  sapphire  blue  in  'these  August  days, 

—  and  striving  to  possess  my  soul  in  patience.     In 


190  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

a  way  I  did  enjoy  the  peace  and  quietude,  the  pure, 
delicious  air ;  for  they  were  means  to  the  ends  I  had 
in  view,  —  my  speedy  recovery,  and  the  beginning  of 
the  quest  which  I  must  start  as  soon  as  possible. 

We  were  sitting  in  the  garden  now,  —  Mary  and 
I  alone  for  once,  for  Jim  was  off  to  the  golf  links. 

I  had  known,  all  along,  of  course,  that  she  was 
fretting  about  Anne;  but  I  had  managed,  hitherto, 
to  avoid  any  discussion  of  her  silence,  which,  though 
more  mysterious  to  Mary  than  to  me,  was  not  less  dis- 
tressing. And  I  hoped  fervently  that  she  would  n't 
resume  the  subject. 

She  did  n't,  for,  to  my  immense  relief,  as  I  sat 
staring  at  the  fuchsia  hedge  that  screened  the  ap- 
proach to  the  house,  I  saw  a  black  clerical  hat  bob- 
bing along,  and  got  a  glimpse  of  a  red  face. 

"  There  's  a  parson  coming  here,"  I  remarked  in- 
anely, and  Mary  started  up,  mopping  her  eyes  with 
her  ridiculous  little  handkerchief. 

"  Goodness !  It  must  be  the  vicar  coming  to  call, 
—  I  heard  he  was  back,  —  and  I  'm  such  a  fright ! 
Talk  to  him,  Maurice,  and  say  I  '11  be  down  directly." 

She  disappeared  within  the  house  just  as  the  old- 
fashioned  door-bell  clanged  sonorously. 

A  few  seconds  later  a  trim  maid-servant  —  that 
same  tall  parlor-maid  who  had  once  before  come  op- 
portunely on  the  scene  —  tripped  out,  conducting 
a  handsome  old  gentleman,  whom  she  announced  as 
"  the  Reverend  George  Treherne." 

I  rose  to  greet  him,  of  course. 

"  I  'm  very  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Treherne,"  I 
said,  and  he  could  not  know  how  exceptionally  truth- 
ful the  conventional  words  were.  "  I  must  introduce 


WITH  MARY  AT  MORWEN  191 

myself  —  Maurice  Wynn.  My  cousin,  Mrs.  Cayley, 
will  be  down  directly ;  Jim  —  Mr.  Cayley  —  is  on 
the  golf  links.  Won't  you  sit  down  —  right  here?  " 

I  politely  pulled  forward  the  most  comfortable  of 
the  wicker  chairs. 

"  Thanks.  You  're  an  American,  Mr.  Wynn  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  That 's  so,"  I  said,  wondering  how  he  guessed  it 
so  soon. 

We  got  on  famously  while  we  waited  for  Mary, 
chatting  about  England  in  general  and  Cornwall 
in  particular.  He  'd  been  vicar  of  Morwen  for  over 
forty  years. 

I  had  to  confess  that  I  Jd  not  seen  much  of  the 
neighborhood  at  present,  though  I  hoped  to  do  so 
now  I  was  better. 

"  It 's  the  loveliest  corner  in  England,  sir ! "  he 
asserted  enthusiastically.  "  And  there  are  some  fine 
old  houses  about;  you  Americans  are  always  inter- 
ested in  our  old  English  country  seats,  aren't  you? 
Well,  you  must  go  to  Pencarrow,  —  a  gem  of  its 
kind.  It  belongs  to  the  Pendennis  family,  but  —  " 

"  Pendennis ! "  I  exclaimed,  sitting  up  in  aston- 
ishment ;  "  not  Anthony  Pendennis !  " 

He  looked  at  me  as  if  he  thought  I  Jd  suddenly 
taken  leave  of  my  senses. 

"  Yes,  Anthony  Pendennis  is  the  present  owner ; 
I  knew  him  well  as  a  young  man.  But  he  has  lived 
abroad  for  many  years.  Do  you  know  him?  " 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

LIGHT    ON    THE    PAST 

"  "\7"ES,  I  've  met  him  once,  under  very  strange 
-I  circumstances,"  I  answered.  "  I  'd  like  to 
tell  them  to  you ;  but  not  now.  I  don't  want  my 
cousin  to  know  anything  about  it,"  I  added  hastily, 
for  I  heard  Mary's  voice  speaking  to  the  maid,  and 
knew  she  would  be  out  in  another  minute. 

"  May  I  come  and  see  you,  Mr.  Treherne?  I  've 
a  very  special  reason  for  asking." 

He  must  have  thought  me  a  polite  lunatic,  but 
he  said  courteously : 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  see  you  at  the  vicarage, 
Mr.  Wynn,  and  to  hear  any  news  you  can  give  me 
concerning  my  old  friend.  Perhaps  you  could  come 
this  evening?  " 

I  accepted  the  invitation  with  alacrity. 

"  Thanks ;  that 's  very  good  of  you.  I  '11  come 
round  after  dinner,  then.  But  please  don't  mention 
the  Pendennises  to  my  cousin,  unless  she  does  so  first. 
I  '11  explain  why,  later." 

There  was  no  time  for  more,  as  Mary  reappeared. 

A  splendid  old  gentleman  was  the  Rev.  George 
Treherne.  Although  he  must  certainly  have  been 
puzzled  by  my  manner  and  my  requests,  he  concealed 
the  fact  admirably,  and  steered  clear  of  any  refer- 
ence to  Pencarrow  or  its  owner;  though,  of  course, 


LIGHT  ON  THE  PAST  193 

he  talked  a  lot  about  his  beloved  Cornwall  while 
we  had  tea. 

"  He  's  charming !  "  Mary  declared,  after  he  had 
gone.  "  Though  why  a  man  like  that  should  be 
a  bachelor  beats  me,  when  there  are  such  hordes  of 
nice  women  in  England  who  would  get  married  if 
they  could,  only  there  are  n't  enough  men  to  go 
round !  I  guess  I  '11  ask  Jane  Fraser." 

She  paused  meditatively,  chin  on  hand. 

"  No,  —  Jane  's  all  right,  but  she  'd  just  worry 
him  to  death ;  there  's  no  repose  about  Jane !  Mar- 
garet Haynes,  now ;  she  looks  early  Victorian,  though 
she  can't  be  much  over  thirty.  She  'd  just  suit  him, 
—  and  that  nice  old  vicarage.  I  '11  write  and  ask 
her  to  come  down  for  a  week  or  two,  —  right  now ! 
What  do  you  think,  Maurice?  " 

"  That  you  're  the  most  inveterate  little  match- 
maker in  the  world.  Why  can't  you  leave  the  poor 
old  man  in  peace  ? "  I  answered,  secretly  relieved 
that  she  had,  for  the  moment,  forgotten  her  anxiety 
about  Anne. 

She  laughed. 

"  Bachelorhood  is  n't  peace ;  it 's  desolation !  "  she 
declared.  "  I  'm  sure  he  's  lonely  in  that  big  house. 
What  was  that  he  said  about  expecting  you  to- 
night?" 

"  I  'm  going  to  call  round  after  dinner  and  get 
hold  of  some  facts  on  Cornish  history,"  I  said 
evasively. 

I  had  n't  the  faintest  notion  as  to  what  I  expected 
to  learn  from  him,  but  the  moment  he  had  said  he 
knew  Anthony  Pendennis  the  thought  flashed  to  my 
mind  that  he  might  be  able  to  give  me  some  clue  to 

13 


194  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

the  mystery  that  enveloped  Anne  and  her  father; 
and  that  might  help  me  to  shape  my  plans. 

I  would,  of  course,  have  to  tell  him  the  reason 
for  my  inquiries,  and  convince  him  that  they  were 
not  prompted  by  mere  curiosity.  I  was  filled  with 
a  queer  sense  of  suppressed  excitement  as  I  walked 
briskly  up  the  steep  lane  and  through  the  church- 
yard, —  ghostly  looking  in  the  moonlight,  —  which 
was  the  shortest  way  to  the  vicarage,  a  pictur- 
esque old  house  that  Mary  and  I  had  already  viewed 
from  the  outside,  and  judged  to  be  Jacobean  in 
period.  As  I  was  shown  into  a  low-ceiled  room, 
panelled  and  furnished  with  black  oak,  where  the 
vicar  sat  beside  a  log  fire,  blazing  cheerily  in  the 
great  open  fireplace,  I  felt  as  if  I  'd  been  trans- 
ported back  to  the  seventeenth  century.  The  only 
anachronisms  were  my  host's  costume  and  my  own, 
and  the  box  of  cigars  on  the  table  beside  him,  com- 
panioning a  decanter  of  wine  and  a  couple  of  tall, 
slender  glasses  that  would  have  rejoiced  a  connois- 
seur's heart. 

Mr.  Treherne  welcomed  me  genially. 

"  You  won't  find  the  fire  too  much  ?  There  are 
very  few  nights  in  our  West  Country,  here  by  the 
sea  at  any  rate,  when  a  fire  is  n't  a  comfort  after 
sunset;  a  companion,  too,  for  a  lonely  man,  eh? 
It  *s  very  good  of  you  to  come  round  to-night,  Mr. 
Wynn.  I  have  very  few  visitors,  as  you  may  im- 
agine. And  so  you  have  met  my  old  friend,  Anthony 
Pendennis  ?  " 

I  was  thankful  of  the  opening  he  afforded  me,  and 
answered  promptly. 

"  Yes ;    but  only  once,  and  in  an  extraordinary 


LIGHT  ON  THE  PAST  195 

fray.  I  '11  tell  you  all  about  it,  Mr.  Treherne ;  and 
in  return  I  ask  you  to  give  me  every  bit  of  infor- 
mation you  may  possess  about  him.  I  shall  respect 
your  confidence,  as,  I  am  sure,  you  will  respect 
mine." 

"  Most  certainly  I  shall  do  that,  Mr.  Wynn,"  he 
said  with  quiet  emphasis,  and  forthwith  I  plunged 
into  my  story,  refraining  only  from  any  allusion 
to  Anne's  connection  with  Cassavetti's  murder. 
That,  I  was  determined,  I  would  never  mention  to 
any  living  soul;  determined  also  to  deny  it  point- 
blank  if  any  one  should  suggest  it  to  me. 

He  listened  with  absorbed  interest,  and  without 
any  comment;  only  interposing  a  question  now 
and  then. 

"  It  is  astounding ! "  he  said  gravely  at  last. 
"  And  so  that  poor  child  has  been  drawn  into  the 
whirlpool  of  Russian  politics,  as  her  mother  was 
before  her,  —  to  perish  as  she  did !  " 

"Her  mother?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  did  she  —  Anne  Pendennis  —  never  tell 
you,  or  your  cousin,  her  mother's  history?  " 

"  Never.  I  doubt  if  she  knew  it  herself.  She 
cannot  remember  her  mother  at  all;  only  an  old 
nurse  who  died  some  years  ago.  Do  you  know  her 
mother's  history,  sir?  " 

"  Partly ;  I  '11  tell  you  all  I  do  know,  Mr.  Wynn,  — 
confidence  for  confidence,  as  you  said  just  now. 
She  was  a  Polish  lady,  —  the  Countess  Anna  Vassi- 
litzi;  I  think  that  was  the  name,  though  after  her 
marriage  she  dropped  her  title,  and  was  known  here 
in  England  merely  as  Mrs.  Anthony  Pendennis. 
Her  father  and  brother  were  Polish  noblemen,  who, 


196  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

like  so  many  others  of  their  race  and  rank,  had  been 
ruined  by  Russian  aggression ;  but  I  believe  that, 
at  the  time  when  Anthony  met  and  fell  in  love  with 
her,  —  not  long  before  the  assassination  of  the  Tzar 
Alexander  the  Second,  —  the  brother  and  sister  at 
least  were  in  considerable  favor  at  the  Russian  Court ; 
though  whether  they  used  their  position  there  for 
the  purpose  of  furthering  the  political  intrigues  in 
which,  as  transpired  later,  they  were  both  involved, 
I  really  cannot  say.  I  fear  it  is  very  probable. 

"  I  remember  well  the  distress  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Pendennis,  —  Anthony's  parents,  —  when  he  wrote 
and  announced  his  engagement  to  the  young  countess. 
He  was  their  only  child,  and  they  had  all  the  old- 
fashioned  English  prejudice  against  'foreigners' 
of  every  description.  Still  they  did  not  withhold 
their  consent ;  it  would  have  been  useless  to  do  so, 
for  Anthony  was  of  age,  and  had  ample  means  of 
his  own.  He  did  not  bring  his  wife  home,  however, 
after  their  marriage;  they  remained  in  Russia  for 
nearly  a  year,  but  at  last,  soon  after  the  murder 
of  the  Tzar,  they  came  to  England,  —  to  Pencarrow. 

"  They  did  not  stay  many  weeks ;  but  during  that 
period  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  them.  Anthony  and  I 
had  always  been  good  friends,  though  he  was  several 
years  my  junior,  and  we  were  of  entirely  different 
temperaments;  his  was,  and  is,  I  have  no  doubt,  a 
restless,  romantic  disposition.  His  people  ought  to 
have  made  a  soldier  or  sailor  of  him,  instead  of  ex- 
pecting him  to  settle  down  to  the  humdrum  life  of 
a  country  gentleman !  While  as  for  his  wife  — " 

He  paused  and  stared  hard  at  the  ruddy  glow  of 
the  firelight,  as  if  he  could  see  something  pictured 


LIGHT  ON  THE  PAST  197 

therein,  something  that  brought  a  strange  wistful- 
ness  to  his  fine  old  face. 

"  She  was  the  loveliest  and  most  charming  woman 
I  've  ever  seen !  "  he  resumed  emphatically.  "  As 
witty  as  she  was  beautiful ;  a  gracious  wit,  —  not 
the  wit  that  wounds,  no,  no !  'A  perfect  woman 
nobly  planned  '  —  that  was  Anna  Pendennis ;  to  see 
her,  to  know  her,  was  to  love  her!  Did  I  say  just 
now  that  she  misused  her  influence  at  the  Russian 
Court  in  the  attempt  to  further  what  she  believed 
to  be  a  right  and  holy  cause  —  the  cause  of  freedom 
for  an  oppressed  people?  God  forgive  me  if  I  did! 
At  least  she  had  no  share  in  the  diabolical  plot  that 
succeeded  all  too  well,  —  the  assassination  of  the  only 
broad-minded  and  humane  autocrat  Russia  has  ever 
known.  I  'm  a  man  of  peace,  sir,  but  I  'd  horsewhip 
any  man  who  dared  to  say  to  my  face  that  Anna 
Pendennis  was  a  woman  who  lent  herself  to  that 
devilry,  or  any  other  of  the  kind  —  yes,  I  'd  do  that 
even  now,  after  the  lapse  of  twenty-five  years !  " 

"I  know,"  I  said  huskily.  "That's  just  how  I 
feel  about  Anne.  She  must  be  very  like  her  mother ! " 


CHAPTER   XXX 

A   BYGONE    TRAGEDY 

HE  sat  so  long  silent  after  that  outburst  that 
I  feared  he  might  not  be  willing  to  tell  me 
any  more  of  what  I  was  painfully  eager  to  hear. 

"  Did  she  —  the  Countess  Anna  —  die  here,  sir?  " 
I  asked  at  last. 

He  roused  himself  with  a  start. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon ;  I  had  almost  forgotten  you 
were  there,"  he  said  apologetically.  "  Die  here? 
No;  better,  far  better  for  her  if  she  had!  Still, 
she  was  not  happy  here.  The  old  people  did  not  like 
her;  did  not  try  to  like  her;  though  I  don't  know 
how  they  could  have  held  out  against  her,  for  she 
did  her  best  to  conciliate  them,  to  conform  to  their 
narrow  ways,  —  except  to  the  extent  of  coming  to 
church  with  them.  She  was  a  devout  Roman  Catho- 
lic, and  she  explained  to  me  once  how  the  tenacity 
with  which  the  Polish  gentry  held  to  their  religious 
views  was  one  more  cause  of  offence  against  them 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Russian  bureaucracy  and  episco- 
pacy. I  don't  think  Mrs.  Pendennis  —  Anthony's 
mother  —  ever  forgave  me  for  the  view  I  took  of 
this  matter;  she  threatened  to  write  to  the  bishop. 
She  was  a  masterful  old  lady  —  and  I  believe  she 
would  have  done  it,  too,  if  Anthony  and  his  wife 
had  remained  in  the  neighborhood.  But  the  friction 


A  BYGONE  TRAGEDY  199 

became  unbearable,  and  he  took  her  away.  I  never 
saw  her  again;  never  again! 

"  They  went  to  London  for  a  time ;  and  from 
there  they  both  wrote  to  me.  We  corresponded  fre- 
quently, and  they  invited  me  to  go  and  stay  with 
them,  but  I  never  went.  Then  —  it  was  in  the 
autumn  of  '83  —  they  returned  to  Russia,  and  the 
letters  were  less  frequent.  They  were  nearly  always 
from  Anna;  Anthony  was  never  a  good  correspond- 
ent! I  do  not  know  even  now  whether  he  wrote  to 
his  parents,  or  they  to  him. 

"  I  had  had  no  news  from  Russia  for  some  months, 
when  Mr.  Pendennis  died  suddenly;  he  had  been 
ailing  for  a  long  time,  but  the  end  came  quite  unex- 
pectedly. Anthony  was  telegraphed  for  and  came 
as  quickly  as  possible.  I  saw  very  little  of  him 
during  his  stay,  a  few  days  only,  during  which  he 
had  to  get  through  a  great  amount  of  business ;  but 
I  learned  that  his  wife  was  in  a  delicate  state  of 
health,  and  he  was  desperately  anxious  about  her. 
I  fear  he  got  very  little  sympathy  from  his  mother, 
whose  aversion  for  her  daughter-in-law  had  in- 
creased, if  that  were  possible,  during  their  separa- 
tion. Poor  woman!  Her  rancour  brought  its  own 
punishment!  She  and  her  son  parted  in  anger, 
never  to  meet  again.  She  only  heard  from  him  once, 
—  about  a  month  after  he  left,  to  return  to  Russia ; 
and  then  he  wrote  briefly,  brutally  in  a  way,  though 
I  know  he  was  half  mad  at  the  time. 

"  *  My  wife  is  dead,  though  not  in  childbirth.  If 
I  had  been  with  her,  I  could  have  saved  her,' "  he 
wrote.  *  You  wished  her  dead,  and  now  your  wish 
is  granted;  but  I  also  am  dead  to  you.  I  shall 


200  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

never  return  to  England;  I  shall  never  bring  my 
child  home  to  the  house  where  her  mother  was  an 
alien.' 

"  He  has  kept  his  word,  as  you  know.  He  did  not 
write  to  me  at  all;  and  it  was  years  before  I  heard 
what  had  happened  during  his  absence,  and  on  his 
return.  When  he  reached  the  frontier  he  was  ar- 
rested and  detained  in  prison  for  several  days.  Then, 
on  consideration  of  the  fact  that  he  was  a  British 
subject  —  " 

"  That  does  n't  weigh  for  much  in  Russia  to-day," 
I  interpolated. 

"  It  did  then.  He  was  informed  that  his  wife  had 
been  arrested  as  an  accomplice  in  a  Nihilist  plot ; 
that  she  had  been  condemned  to  transportation  to 
Siberia,  but  had  died  before  the  sentence  could  be 
executed.  Also  that  her  infant,  born  a  few  days  be- 
fore her  arrest,  had  been  deported,  with  its  nurse, 
and  was  probably  awaiting  him  at  Konigsberg. 
Finally  he  himself  was  conducted  to  the  frontier 
again,  and  expelled  from  '  Holy  Russia.'  The  one 
bit  of  comfort  was  the  child,  whom  he  found  safe 
and  sound  under  the  care  of  the  nurse,  a  German 
who  had  taken  refuge  with  her  kinsfolk  in  Konigs- 
berg, and  who  confirmed  the  terrible  story. 

"  I  heard  all  this  about  ten  years  ago,"  Treherne 
continued,  "  when  by  the  purest  chance  I  met  Pen- 
dennis  in  Switzerland.  I  was  weather-bound  by  a 
premature  snowstorm  for  a  couple  of  days,  and 
among  my  fellow  sufferers  at  the  little  hostelry  were 
Anthony  and  his  daughter." 

"Anne  herself!  What  was  she  like?"  I  asked 
eagerly. 


A  BYGONE  TRAGEDY  201 

"  A  beautiful  girl,  —  the  image  of  her  dead 
mother,"  he  answered  slowly.  "  Or  what  her  mother 
must  have  been  at  that  age.  She  was  then  about  — 
let  me  see  —  twelve  or  thirteen,  but  she  seemed  older ; 
not  what  we  call  a  precocious  child,  but  womanly 
beyond  her  years,  and  devoted  to  her  father,  as  he 
to  her.  I  took  him  to  task;  tried  to  persuade  him 
to  come  back  to  England,  —  to  his  own  home,  — 
if  only  for  his  daughter's  sake.  But  he  would  not 
listen  to  me. 

"  *  Anne  shall  be  brought  up  as  a  citizeness  of  the 
world,'  he  declared.  '  She  shall  never  be  subjected 
to  the  limitations  of  life  in  England.' 

"  I  must  say  they  seemed  happy  enough  to- 
gether !  "  he  added  with  a  sigh. 

"  Well,  that  is  all  I  have  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Wynn. 
From  that  day  to  this  I  have  neither  seen  nor  heard 
aught  of  Anthony  Pendennis  and  his  daughter;  but 
,1  fear  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  has  allowed  her  — 
possibly  even  encouraged  her  —  to  become  involved 
with  some  of  these  terrible  secret  societies,  that  do 
no  good,  but  incalculable  harm.  Perhaps  he  may 
have  inspired  her  with  an  insane  idea  of  avenging  her 
mother ;  and  now  she  has  shared  her  mother's  fate !  " 

"  I  will  not  believe  that  till  I  have  proof  positive," 
I  said  slowly. 

"  But  how  can  you  get  such  proof?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know  yet ;  but  I  'm  going  to  seek  it  — 
to  seek  her !  " 

"You  will  return  to  Russia?" 

"  Why,  yes ;  I  meant  to  do  that  all  along ;  what- 
ever you  might  have  told  me  would  have  made  no 
difference  to  that  determination !  " 


202  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"  But,  my  dear  young  man,  you  will  be  simply 
throwing  your  life  away !  "  he  remonstrated. 

"  I  think  not,  and  it 's  not  very  valuable,  anyway. 
I  thank  you  for  your  story,  sir;  it  helps  me  to 
understand  things  a  bit,  —  Anne's  motive,  and  her 
father's ;  and  it  gives  me  a  little  hope  that  they 
may  have  escaped,  for  the  time,  anyhow.  He  evi- 
dently knew  the  neighborhood  well,  or  he  could  n't 
have  turned  up  at  that  meeting;  and  if  once  he 
could  get  her  safely  back  to  Petersburg,  he  could 
claim  protection  for  them  both  at  the  Embassy, 
though  —  " 

"  If  he  had  been  able  to  do  that,  surely  he  or  she 
would  have  communicated  with  your  cousin,  Mrs. 
Cay  ley  ?  "  he  asked,  speaking  the  thought  that  was 
in  my  own  mind. 

"  That 's  so;  still  there  's  no  use  in  conjecturing. 
You  '11  not  let  my  cousin  get  even  a  hint  of  what 
I  've  told  you,  Mr.  Treherne  ?  If  she  finds  out  that 
Pencarrow  belongs  to  Mr.  Pendennis,  she  '11  surely 
cross-question  you  about  him,  and  Mary  's  so  sharp 
that  she  '11  see  at  once  you  're  concealing  something 
from  her,  if  you  're  not  very  discreet." 

"  Thanks  for  the  warning.  I  promise  you  that 
I  '11  be  very  discreet,  Mr.  Wynn,"  he  assured  me. 
"  Dear  me  —  dear  me,  it  seems  incredible  that  such 
things  should  be !  " 

It  did  seem  incredible,  there  in  that  peaceful  old- 
world  room,  with  never  a  sound  to  break  the  silence 
but  the  lazy  murmur  of  the  waves,  far  below;  heard 
faintly  but  distinctly,  —  a  weird,  monotonous,  never 
ceasing  undersong. 

We  parted  cordially;    he  came  right  out  to  the 


A  BYGONE  TRAGEDY  203 

porch,  and  I  was  afraid  he  might  offer  to  walk  some 
of  the  way  with  me.  I  wanted  to  be  alone  to  try 
and  fix  things  up  in  my  mind ;  for  though  the  history 
of  Anne's  parentage  gave  me  a  clue  to  her  motives, 
there  was  much  that  still  perplexed  me. 

Why  had  she  always  told  Mary  that  she  knew 
nothing  of  Russia,  —  had  never  been  there?  Well, 
doubtless  that  was  partly  for  Mary's  own  sake,  to 
spare  her  anxiety,  and  partly  because  of  the  vital 
necessity  for  secrecy ;  but  a  mere  evasion  would  have 
served  as  well  as  the  direct  assertion,  —  I  hated  to 
call  it  a  lie  even  in  my  own  mind!  And  why,  oh 
why  had  she  not  trusted  me,  let  me  serve  her;  for 
she  knew,  she  must  have  known  —  that  I  asked  for 
nothing  better  than  that! 

But  I  could  come  to  no  conclusion  whatever  as  I 
leaned  against  the  churchyard  wall,  gazing  out  over 
the  sea,  dark  and  mysterious  save  where  the  moonlight 
made  a  silver  track  across  the  calm  surface.  As 
well  try  to  fathom  the  secret  of  the  sea  as  the  mystery 
that  enshrouded  Anne  Pendennis! 

On  one  point  only  I  was  more  resolved  than  ever, 
—  to  return  to  Russia  at  the  earliest  possible 
moment. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

MISHKA  TURNS   UP 

"TT'OTJ  must  have  found  Cornish  history  very  fasci- 

JL  nating,  Maurice,"  Mary  declared  at  breakfast-time 
next  morning.  "Jim  says  it  was  nearly  twelve  when 
you  got  back.  You  bad  boy  to  keep  such  late  hours, 
after  you  've  been  so  ill,  too !  " 

"I  'm  all  right  again  now,"  I  protested.  "And  the 
vicar  certainly  is  a  very  interesting  companion." 

There  were  a  couple  of  letters,  one  from  the  Courier 
office,  and  another  from  Harding,  Lord  Southbourne's 
private  secretary,  and  both  important  in  their  way. 

Harding  wrote  that  Southbourne  would  be  in  town 
at  the  end  of  the  week,  en  route  for  Scotland,  and  wished 
to  see  me  if  I  were  fit  for  service.  "A  soft  job  this 
time,  a  trip  to  the  States,  so  you  '11  be  able  to  combine 
business  with  pleasure." 

Under  any  other  circumstances  I  could  have  done 
with  a  run  home;  but  even  while  I  read  the  letter  I 
decided  that  Southbourne  would  have  to  entrust  the 
matter  —  whatever  it  might  be  —  to  some  one  else. 

I  opened  the  second  letter,  a  typed  note,  signed  by 
Penning  the  news  editor,  enclosing  one  of  the  printed 
slips  on  which  chance  callers  have  to  write  their  name 
and  business.  I  glanced  at  that  first,  and  found  it 
filled  in  with  an  almost  indecipherable  scrawl.  I  made 
out  the  name  and  address  right  enough  as  "M.  Pavloff, 


MISHKA  TURNS  UP  205 

Charing  Cross  Hotel,"  and  puzzled  over  a  line  in  Ger- 
man, which  I  at  length  translated  as  "bearing  a  mes- 
sage from  Johann."  Now  who  on  earth  were  Pavloff 
and  Johann  ? 

"Dear  Wynn,"  the  note  ran: 

"One  of  your  Russian  friends  called  here  to-night, 
and  wanted  your  address,  which  of  course  was  not 
given.     I  saw  him  —  a  big  surly-looking  man,  who 
speaks  German  fairly  well,  but  would  not  state  his 
business  —  so  I  promised  to  send  enclosed  on  to  you. 
"Hope  you  're  pulling  round  all  right ! 
"Yours  sincerely, 

"WALTER  PENNING." 


A  big  surly-looking  man.  Could  it  be  Mishka?  I 
scarcely  dared  hope  it  was,  remembering  how  and 
where  I  parted  from  him;  but  that  underlined 
"Johann  "  might  —  must  mean  "Ivan,"  otherwise  the 
Grand  Duke  Loris.  To  give  the  German  rendering  of 
the  name  was  just  like  Mishka,  who  was  the  very  em- 
bodiment of  caution  and  taciturnity. 

"Well,  I  've  got  my  marching  orders,"  I  announced. 
"I  '11  have  to  go  back  to  London  to-day,  Mary,  to  meet 
Southbourne.  Where's  the  time-table?" 

Mary  objected,  of  course,  on  the  score  that  I  was  not 
yet  strong  enough  for  work,  and  I  reassured  her. 

"  Nonsense,  dear ;  I  'm  all  right,  and  I  've  been  idle 
too  long." 

"Idle!  When  you've  turned  out  that  Russian 
series." 

"A  month  ago,  and  I  have  n't  done  a  stroke  since." 

"But  is  this  anything  special?"  she  urged.     "Lord 


206  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

Southbourne  is  not  sending  you  abroad  again,  —  to 
Russia?" 

"No  fear  of  that,  little  woman;  and  if  he  did  they 
would  stop  me  at  the  frontier,  so  don't  worry.  Hard- 
ing mentioned  the  States  in  his  note." 

"Oh,  that  would  be  lovely!"  she  assented,  quite  re- 
assured. I  was  thankful  that  she  and  Jim  were  settled 
down  in  this  out-of-the-way  place  for  the  next  few 
weeks,  any  way.  It  would  be  easy  to  keep  them  in 
ignorance  of  my  movements,  and,  once  away,  they 
would  n't  expect  to  hear  much  of  me.  In  my  private 
capacity  I  was  a  proverbially  remiss  correspondent. 

They  both  came  with  me  the  seven-mile  drive  to  the 
station ;  and  even  Jim,  to  my  relief,  did  n't  seem  to 
have  the  least  suspicion  that  my  hurried  departure  was 
occasioned  by  any  other  reason  than  that  I  had  given. 

Anne's  name  had  never  been  mentioned  between  him 
and  myself  since  my  release.  Perhaps  he  imagined  I 
was  forgetting  her,  though  Mary  knew  better. 

I  sent  a  wire  from  Exeter  to  "M.  Pavloff,"  and  when 
I  arrived  at  Waterloo,  about  half-past  ten  at  night,  I 
drove  straight  to  the  Gharing  Cross  Hotel,  secured  a 
room  there,  and  asked  for  Herr  Pavloff. 

I  was  taken  up  to  a  private  sitting-room,  and  there, 
right  enough,  was  Mishka  himself.  In  his  way  he  was 
as  remarkable  a  man  as  his  master;  as  imperturbable, 
and  as  much  at  home  in  a  London  hotel,  as  in  the  cafe 
near  the  Ismailskaia  Prospekt  in  Petersburg. 

He  greeted  me  with  a  warmth  that  I  felt  to  be  flat- 
tering from  one  of  his  temperament.  In  many  ways 
he  was  a  typical  Russian,  almost  servile,  in  his  surly 
fashion,  towards  those  whom  he  conceived  to  be  im- 
measurably his  superiors  in  rank;  more  or  less  trucu- 


MISHKA  TURNS  UP  207 

lent  towards  every  one  else;  and,  as  a  rule,  suspicious 
of  every  one,  high  or  low,  with  whom  he  came  in  con- 
tact, save  his  master,  and,  I  really  believe,  myself. 

At  an  early  stage  in  our  acquaintanceship  he  had 
abandoned  the  air  of  sulky  deference  which  he  had 
shown  when  we  first  met  on  the  car  returning  to  Duna- 
burg  after  the  accident,  and  had  treated  me  more  or 
less  en  camarade,  though  in  a  kind  of  paternal  manner; 
and  yet  I  doubt  if  he  was  my  senior  in  years.  He  was 
a  man  of  considerable  education,  too,  though  he  was 
usually  careful  to  conceal  the  fact.  To  this  day  I  do 
not  know  the  exact  position  he  held  in  his  master's  ser- 
vice. It  may  perhaps  be  described  as  that  of  confi- 
dential henchman,  —  a  mediaeval  definition,  but  in 
Russia  one  is  continually  taken  back  to  the  Middle 
Ages.  One  thing,  at  least,  was  indubitable,  —  his  utter 
devotion  to  Jiis  master. 

"So,  the  little  man  kept  his  word,  and  sent  for  you. 
That  is  well.  And  you  have  come  promptly ;  that  also 
is  well.  It  is  what  you  would  do,"  he  said,  eying  me 
quite  affectionately.  "We  did  not  expect  to  meet  again, 
—  and  in  England,  hein?" 

"That  we  did  n't !"  I  rejoined.  "Say,  Mishka,  how 
did  you  get  clear;  and  how  did  you  know  where  to 
find  me?" 

"One  thing  at  a  time.  First,  I  have  brought  you  a 
letter.  Read  it." 

With  exasperating  deliberation  he  fetched  out  a  bulky 
pocket-book,  and  extracted  therefrom  a  packet,  which 
proved  to  be  a  thick  cream  envelope,  carefully  pro- 
tected from  soilure  by  an  outer  wrapping  of  paper. 

Within  was  a  letter  written  in  French,  and  in  a  curi- 
ously fine,  precise  caligraphy.  It  was  dated  August  10th, 


*08  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

from  the  Castle  of  Zostrov,  and  it  conveyed  merely  an 
invitation  to  visit  the  writer,  and  the  assurance  that  the 
bearer  would  give  me  all  necessary  information. 

"I  can  offer  you  very  little  in  the  way  of  entertain- 
ment, unless  you  happen  to  be  a  sportsman,  which  I 
think  is  probable.  There  is  game  in  abundance,  from 
bear  downwards,"  was  the  last  sentence. 

It  was  a  most  discreet  communication,  signed  merely 
with  the  initial  "L." 

"Read  it,"  I  said,  handing  it  to  Mishka.  He  glanced 
through  it,  nodded,  and  handed  it  back.  He  knew  its 
contents  before,  doubtless ;  but  still  I  gathered  that  he 
could  read  French  as  well  as  German. 

"Well,  are  you  coming?"  he  asked. 

"Why,  certainly;  but  what  about  the  information 
his  Highness  mentions  ?  " 

He  put  up  his  hand  with  a  swift,  warning  gesture, 
and  glanced  towards  the  door,  muttering : 

"There  is  no  need  of  names  or  titles." 

"Or  of  precautions  here!"  I  rejoined  impatiently. 
"Remember,  we  are  hi  England,  man  !" 

"True,  I  forgot;  but  still,  caution  is  always  best. 
About  this  information.  What  do  you  wish  to  know?" 

"Why,  everything,  man;  everything  I  How  did  you 
escape  ?  What  is  —  he  —  doing  at  this  place ;  have 
you  news  of  her?  That  first,  and  above  all!" 

"That  I  cannot  give,  for  I  have  it  not.  I  think  he 
knows  somewhat,  and  if  that  is  so  he  himself  will  tell 
you.  But  I  have  heard  nothing  —  nothing  !  For  the 
rest,  I  crawled  further  into  the  forest,  and  lay  quiet 
there.  I  heard  enough  through  the  night  to  know  some- 
what at  least  that  was  befalling,  but  I  kept  still.  What 
could  I  have  done  to  aid  ?  And  later,  I  made  my  way 


MISHKA  TURNS  UP  209 

to  a  place  of  safety;  and  thence,  in  due  time,  to  Zo- 
strov,  where  I  joined  my  master.  It  is  one  of  his  estates, 
and  he  is  banished  there,  for  how  long  ?  Who  can  say  ? 
Till  those  about  the  Tzar  alter  their  minds,  or  till  he 
himself  sees  reason  to  go  elsewhere !  They  dare  do 
nothing  more  to  him,  openly,  for  he  is  a  prince  of  the 
blood,  when  all  is  said,  and  the  Tzar  loves  him;  so 
does  the  Tzarina  (God  guard  her),  though  indeed  that 
counts  for  little !  It  is  not  much,  this  banishment,  — • 
to  him  at  least.  It  might  have  been  worse.  And  he  is 
content,  for  the  present.  He  finds  much  work  ready  to 
his  hand.  We  get  news,  too;  much  more  news  than 
some  imagine,  —  the  censor  among  them.  We  heard 
of  your  deliverance  almost  as  soon  as  it  was  accom- 
plished, and,  later,  of  your  —  what  do  you  call  it?" 

"Acquittal?"  I  suggested. 

"That  would  be  the  word;  you  were  proved 
innocent." 

"Not  exactly;  there  was  not  sufficient  evidence  of 
my  guilt  and  so  I  was  discharged,"  I  answered;  and 
as  I  spoke  I  remembered  that,  even  now,  I  was  liable 
to  be  rearrested  on  that  same  charge,  since  I  had  not 
been  tried  and  acquitted  by  a  jury. 

"We  know,  of  course,"  he  continued,  "that  you  did 
not  murder  that  swine  Selinski." 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  I  demanded. 

"That  I  may  not  tell  you,  but  this  I  may :  if  you  had 
been  condemned,  well  —  " 

He  blew  a  big  cloud  of  smoke  from  his  cigar,  a  cloud 
that  obscured  his  face,  and  out  of  it  he  spoke 
enigmatically : 

"  Rest  assured  you  will  never  be  hung  for  the  murder 
of  Vladimir  Selinski,  although  twenty  English  juries 

14 


210  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

might  pronounce  you  guilty !  But  enough  of  that. 
The  question  is  will  you  return  with  me,  or  will  you 
not  ?  He  has  need  of  you ;  or  thinks  he  has,  which  is 
the  same  thing ;  and  I  can  smooth  the  way.  There  will 
be  risks." 

"I  know  all  about  that,"  I  interrupted  impatiently. 
"And  I  shall  go  with  you,  of  course !" 

"  Of  course,"  he  acquiesced  phlegmatically.  But,  as 
he  spoke,  he  held  out  his  big  blunt  hand ;  and  I  gripped 
it  hard. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

BACK  TO   RUSSIA   ONCE   MORE 

TWO  days  later  I  saw  Lord  Southbourne,  and  re- 
signed my  position  as  a  member  of  his  staff.  I 
felt  myself  mean  in  one  way,  when  I  thought  of  how 
he  had  backed  me  right  through  that  murder  business, 
—  and  before  it,  when  he  set  Freeman  on  my  track. 

He  showed  neither  surprise  nor  annoyance;  in  fact 
he  seemed,  if  anything,  more  nonchalant  than  usual. 

"Well,  of  course  you  know  your  own  affairs  best.  I 
have  n't  any  use  for  men  who  cultivate  interests  out- 
side their  work ;  and  you  ' ve  done  the  straight  thing  in 
resigning  now  that  you  'here  a  duty  divided  do  per- 
ceive,' as  I  heard  a  man  say  the  other  day." 

"Von  Eckhardt!"  I  exclaimed. 

"Guessed  it  first  time,"  he  drawled.  "Could  any 
one  else  in  this  world  garble  quotations  so  horribly  ?  If 
he  would  only  give  'em  in  German  they  would  be  more 
endurable,  but  he  insists  on  exhibiting  his  English.  By 
the  way,  he  has  relinquished  his  vendetta." 

"That  on  Carson's  account?" 

"Yes,  he  believes  the  murderer,  or  murderers,  must 
have  been  wiped  out  in  that  affair  where  you  came  to 
grief  so  signally.  He  had  heard  about  it  before  he  saw 
your  stuff,  though  no  official  account  was  allowed  to 
get  through;  and  he  gave  me  some  rather  interesting 
information,  quite  gratuitously." 


212  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"Does  it  concern  me,  or — any  one  I  know?"  I 
asked,  steadying  my  voice  with  an  effort. 

"Well,  not  precisely;  since  you  only  know  the  lady 
by  repute,  and  by  her  portrait." 

I  remembered  that  Von  Eckhardt  was  the  one  per- 
son besides  myself  who  was  aware  of  Anne's  identity, 
which  I  had  betrayed  to  him  in  that  one  unguarded 
moment  at  Berlin,  for  which  I  had  reproached  myself 
ever  since.  True,  before  I  parted  from  him,  I  had  ex- 
acted a  promise  that  he  would  never  reveal  the  fact  that 
he  knew  her  English  name;  never  mention  it  to  any 
one.  But  he  was  an  erratic  and  forgetful  individual; 
he  might  have  let  the  truth  out  to  Southbourne,  but  the 
latter's  face,  as  I  watched  it,  revealed  nothing. 

"Oh,  that  mysterious  and  interesting  individual," 
I  said  indifferently.  "Do  you  mind  telling  what  he 
said  about  her?" 

"Not  at  all.  It  appears  that  he  admires  her  en- 
thusiastically, in  a  quite  impersonal  sort  of  way  — 
high-flown  and  sentimental.  He  's  a  typical  German  ! 
He  says  she  is  back  in  Russia,  with  her  father  or  uncle. 
She  belongs  to  the  Vassilitzi  family,  Poles  who  have 
been  political  intriguers  for  generations,  and  have 
suffered  accordingly.  They  're  actively  engaged  in 
repairing  the  damage  done  to  their  precious  Society 
in  that  incident  you  know  of,  when  all  the  five  who 
formed  the  executive,  and  held  and  pulled  the  strings, 
were  either  killed  or  arrested." 

This  was  startling  news  enough,  and  it  was  not  easy 
to  maintain  the  non-committal  air  of  mild  interest  that 
I  guessed  to  be  the  safest.  Still  I  think  I  did  manage  it. 

"That 's  queer,"  I  remarked.  "He  said  the  Society 
had  turned  against  her,  condemned  her  to  death." 

IT 


BACK  TO  RUSSIA  ONCE  MORE       213 

Southbourne  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly. 

"  I  'm  only  repeating  what  he  told  me.  Thought 
you  might  like  to  hear  it.  She  must  be  an  energetic 
young  woman;  wish  I  had  her  on  my  staff.  If  you 
should  happen  to  meet  her  you  can  tell  her  so.  I  'd 
give  her  any  terms  she  liked  to  ask." 

Was  he  playing  with  me,  —  laughing  at  me  ?  I  could 
not  tell. 

"All  right,  I  '11  remember;  though  if  she  's  in  Russia 
it 's  very  unlikely  that  I  shall  ever  see  her  in  the  flesh," 
I  said  coolly.  "Did  he  say  just  where  she  was?  Rus- 
sia 's  rather  vague." 

"  No.  Should  n't  wonder  if  she  was  n't  Warsaw  way. 
Mclntyre  —  he  's  at  Petersburg  in  your  place  —  says 
they  're  having  no  end  of  ructions  there,  and  asked  if 
he  should  go  down,  —  but  it 's  not  worth  the  risk.  He  's 
a  good  man,  a  safe  one,  but  he  's  not  the  sort  to  get 
stuff  through  in  defiance  of  the  censor,  though  he  's 
perfectly  willing  to  face  any  amount  of  physical  danger. 
So  I  told  him  not  to  go ;  especially  as  we  shan't  want 
any  more  sensational  Russian  stuff  at  present;  unless 
—  well,  of  course,  if  you  should  happen  on  any  good 
material,  you  can  send  it  along;  for  I  presume  you  are 
not  going  over  to  Soper,  eh?" 

"Of  course  I'm  not!"  I  said  with  some  warmth. 
Soper  was  chief  proprietor  of  several  newspapers  in 
direct  opposition  to  the  group  controlled  by  South- 
bourne,  and  he  certainly  had  made  me  more  than  one 
advantageous  offer,  —  the  latest  only  a  week  or  two 
back,  just  after  my  Russian  articles  appeared  in  The 
Courier. 

"  I  did  n't  suppose  you  were,  though  I  know  he  wants 
you,"  Southbourne  rejoined.  "I  should  rather  like  to 


214  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

know  what  you  are  up  to ;  but  it 's  your  own  affair,  of 
course,  and  you  're  quite  right  to  keep  your  own  coun- 
sel. Anyhow,  good  luck  to  you,  and  good-bye,  for  the 
present." 

I  was  glad  the  interview  was  over,  though  it  left  me  in 
ignorance  as  to  how  much  he  knew  or  suspected  about 
my  movements  and  motives.  I  guessed  it  to  be  a  good 
deal;  or  why  had  he  troubled  to  tell  me  the  news  he 
had  heard  from  Von  Eckhardt?  If  it  were  true,  if 
Anne  were  no  longer  in  danger  from  her  own  party,  and 
was  again  actively  associated  with  it,  her  situation  was 
at  least  less  perilous  than  it  had  been  before,  when  she 
was  threatened  on  every  side.  And  also  my  chances  of 
getting  into  communication  with  her  were  materially 
increased. 

I  related  what  I  had  learned  to  Mishka,  who  made 
no  comment  beyond  a  grunt  which  might  mean  any- 
thing or  nothing. 

"Do  you  think  it  is  true?" 

"Who  knows?  It  is  over  a  fortnight  since  I  left; 
and  many  things  may  happen  in  less  time.  Perhaps 
we  shall  learn  when  we  return,  perhaps  not." 

In  some  ways  Mishka  was  rather  like  a  Scotsman. 

A  few  days  later  his  preparations  were  complete.  The 
real  or  ostensible  object  of  his  visit  to  England  was  to 
buy  farm  implements  and  machinery,  as  agent  for  his 
father,  who,  I  ascertained,  was  land  steward  of  part  of 
the  Zostrov  estates,  and  therefore  a  person  of  consider- 
able importance.  That  fact,  in  a  way,  explained  Mish- 
ka's  position,  which  I  have  before  defined  as  that  of 
"confidential  henchman."  I  found  later  that  the  father, 
as  the  son,  was  absolutely  devoted  to  their  master,  who 
in  his  turn  trusted  them  both  implicitly.  They  were 


BACK  TO  RUSSIA  ONCE  MORE       215 

the  only  two  about  him  whom  he  could  so  trust,  for,  as 
he  had  once  told  me,  he  was  surrounded  by  spies. 

Mishka's  business  rendered  my  re-entry  into  the  for- 
bidden land  an  easily  arranged  matter.  Several  of  the 
machines  he  bought  were  American  patents,  and  my 
role  was  that  of  an  American  mechanic  in  charge  of 
them.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  do  know  a  good  deal  about 
such  things;  and  I  had  never  forgotten  the  appren- 
ticeship to  farming  I  had  served  under  my  father  in 
the  old  home.  Poor  old  dad !  As  long  as  he  lived  he 
never  forgave  me  for  turning  my  back  on  the  farm  and  , 
taking  to  journalism,  after  my  college  course  was  over. 
He  was  all  the  more  angry  with  me  because,  as  he  said, 
in  the  vacation  I  worked  better  than  any  two  laborers; 
as  I  did,  —  there  's  no  sense  in  doing  things  by  halves  ! 

It  would  have  been  a  very  spry  Russian  who  had 
recognized  Maurice  Wynn,  the  physical  wreck  that  had 
left  Russia  in  the  custody  of  two  British  police  officers 
less  than  three  months  back,  in  "William  P.  Gould," 
a  bearded  individual  who  spoke  no  Russian  and  only 
a  little  German,  and  whose  passport  —  issued  by  the 
American  Minister  and  duly  vised  by  the  Russian 
Ambassador  in  London  —  described  him  as  a  native 
of  Chicago. 

Also  we  travelled  by  sea,  from  Hull  to  Riga,  taking 
the  gear  along  with  us;  which  in  itself  minimized  the 
chance  of  detection. 

We  were  to  travel  by  rail  from  Riga  to  Wilna,  via 
Dunaburg;  and  the  rest  of  the  journey,  rather  over 
than  under  a  hundred  and  twenty  miles,  must  be  by 
road,  riding  or  driving.  From  Wilna  the  goods  we  were 
taking  would  follow  us  under  a  military  escort. 

"How's  that?"    I  asked,  when  Mishka  told  me  of 


216  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

this.  "Who  's  going  to  steal  a  couple  of  wagon-loads 
of  farm  things  ?  " 

His  reply  was  enigmatic. 

"You  think  you  know  something  of  Russia,  because 
you  've  seen  Petersburg  and  Moscow,  and  have  never 
been  more  than  ten  miles  from  a  railroad.  Well,  you 
are  going  to  know  something  more  now;  not  much, 
perhaps,  but  it  may  teach  you  that  those  who  keep  to 
the  railroad  see  only  the  froth  of  a  seething  pot.  We 
know  what  is  in  the  pot,  but  you,  and  others  like  you, 
do  not;  therefore  you  wonder  that  the  froth  is  what 
it  is." 

A  seething  pot.  The  time  soon  came  when  I  remem- 
bered his  simile,  and  acknowledged  its  truth;  and  I 
knew  then  that  that  pot  was  filled  with  hell-broth! 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE   ROAD   TO    ZOSTROV 

EVEN  before  we  left  Riga,  —  where  we  were 
delayed  for  a  couple  of  days  getting  our  goods 
through  the  Customs  and  on  to  the  train,  —  I  realized 
somewhat  at  least  of  the  meaning  of  Mishka's  enigmatic 
utterance.  Not  that  we  experienced  any  adventures. 
I  suppose  I  played  my  part  all  right  as  the  American 
mechanic  whose  one  idea  was  safeguarding  the  ma- 
chinery he  was  in  charge  of.  Anyhow  we  got  through 
the  necessary  interviews  with  truculent  officials  without 
much  difficulty.  Most  of  them  were  unable  to  under- 
stand the  sort  of  German  I  chose  to  fire  off  at  them,  and 
had  to  rely  on  Mishka's  services  as  interpreter.  The 
remarks  they  passed  upon  me  were  not  exactly  com- 
plimentary, —  low-grade  Russian  officials  are  foul- 
mouthed  enough  at  the  best  of  times,  and  now,  imagin- 
ing that  I  did  not  know  what  they  were  saying,  they 
let  loose  their  whole  vocabulary,  —  while  I  blinked 
blandly  through  the  glasses  I  had  assumed,  and,  in 
reply  to  a  string  of  filthy  abuse,  mildly  suggested  that 
they  should  get  a  hustle  on,  and  pass  the  things  promptly. 
I  quite  appreciated  the  humor  of  the  situation,  and 
I  guess  Mishka  did  so,  too,  for  more  than  once  I  saw 
his  deep-set  eyes  twinkle  just  for  a  moment,  as  he  dis- 
creetly translated  my  remarks,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
cordially  endorsed  our  tyrants'  freely  expressed  opinions 
concerning  myself. 


218  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"You  have  done  well,  'Heir  Gould,'  yes,  very  well," 
he  condescended  to  say,  when  we  were  at  last  through 
with  the  troublesome  business.  "We  are  safe  enough 
so  far,  though  for  my  part  I  shall  be  glad  to  turn  my 
back  on  this  hole,  where  the  trouble  may  begin  at  any 
moment." 

"What  trouble?"  Tasked. 

"  God  knows,"  he  answered  evasively,  with  a  charac- 
teristic movement  of  his  broad  shoulders.  "Can  you 
not  see  for  yourself  that  there  is  trouble  brewing?" 

I  had  seen  as  much.  The  whole  moral  atmosphere 
seemed  surcharged  with  electricity;  and  although  as 
yet  there  was  no  actual  disturbance,  beyond  the  in- 
dividual acts  of  ruffianism  that  are  every-day  incidents 
in  all  Russian  towns,  the  populace,  the  sailors,  and  the 
soldiery  eyed  each  other  with  sullen  menace,  like  so 
many  dogs,  implacably  hostile,  but  not  yet  worked  up 
to  fighting  pitch.  A  few  weeks  later  the  storm  burst, 
and  Riga  reeked  with  fire  and  carnage,  as  did  many 
another  city,  town,  and  village,  from  Petersburg  to 
Odessa. 

I  discerned  the  same  ominous  state  of  things  —  the 
calm  before  the  storm  —  at  Dunaburg  and  Wilna,  but 
it  was  not  until  we  had  left  the  railroad  and  were  well 
on  our  two  days'  cross-country  ride  to  Zostrov  that 
I  became  acquainted  with  two  important  ingredients 
in  that  "seething  pot"  of  Russian  affairs, —  to  use 
Mishka's  apt  simile.  Those  two  ingredients  were  the 
peasantry  and  the  Jews. 

Hitherto  I  had  imagined,  as  do  most  foreigners,  whose 
knowledge  of  Russia  is  purely  superficial,  and  does  not 
extend  beyond  the  principal  cities,  that  what  is  termed 
the  revolutionary  movement  was  a  conflict  between 


THE  ROAD  TO  ZOSTROV  219 

the  governing  class,  —  the  bureaucracy  which  dominates 
every  one  from  the  Tzar  himself,  an  autocrat  in  name 
only,  downwards,  —  and  the  democracy.  The  latter 
once  was  actively  represented  only  by  the  various 
Nihilist  organizations,  but  now  includes  the  majority 
of  the  urban  population,  together  with  many  of  the 
nobles  who,  like  Anne's  kindred,  have  suffered,  and 
still  suffer  so  sorely  under  the  iron  rule  of  cruelty, 
rapacity,  and  oppression  that  has  made  Russia  a 
byword  among  civilized  nations  since  the  days  of  Ivan 
the  Terrible.  But  now  I  realized  that  the  movement  is 
rendered  infinitely  complex  by  the  existence  of  two 
other  conflicting  forces,  —  the  moujiks  and  the  Jews. 
The  bureaucracy  indiscriminately  oppresses  and  seeks 
to  crush  all  three  sections;  the  democracy  despairs  of 
the  moujiks  and  hates  the  Jews,  though  it  accepts  their 
financial  help;  while  the  moujiks  distrust  every  one, 
and  also  hate  the  Jews,  whom  they  murder  whenever 
they  get  the  chance. 

That's  how  the  situation  appeared  to  me  even  then, 
before  the  curtain  went  up  on  the  final  act  of  the  tragedy 
in  which  I  and  the  girl  I  loved  were  involved ;  and  the 
fact  that  all  these  complex  elements  were  present  in 
that  tragedy  must  be  my  excuse  for  trying  to  sum  them 
up  in  a  few  words. 

I've  knocked  around  the  world  somewhat,  and  have 
had  many  a  long  and  perilous  ride  through  unknown 
country,  but  never  one  that  interested  me  more  than 
this.  I've  said  before  that  Russia  is  still  back  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  but  now,  with  every  verst  we  covered,  it 
seemed  to  me  we  were  getting  farther  back  still,  —  to 
the  Dark  Ages  themselves. 

We  passed  through  several  villages  on  the  first  day, 


220  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

all  looking  exactly  alike.  A  wide  thoroughfare  that 
could  not  by  any  stretch  of  courtesy  be  called  a  street 
or  road,  since  it  showed  no  attempt  at  paving  or  mak- 
ing and  was  ankle-deep  in  filthy  mud,  was  flanked  by 
irregular  rows  of  low  wooden  huts,  reeking  with  foul- 
ness, and  more  like  the  noisome  lairs  of  wild  beasts 
than  human  habitations.  Their  inhabitants  looked 
more  bestial  than  human,  —  huge,  shaggy  men  who 
peered  sullenly  at  us  with  swinish  eyes,  bleared  and 
bloodshot  with  drunkenness;  women  with  shapeless 
figures  and  blunt  faces,  stolid  masks  expressive  only 
of  dumb  hopeless  endurance  of  misery,  —  the  abject 
misery  that  is  the  lot  of  the  Russian  peasant  woman 
from  birth  to  death.  I  was  soon  to  learn  that  this 
centuries'  old  habit  of  patient  endurance  was  nearly  at 
an  end,  and  that  when  once  the  mask  is  thrown  aside 
the  fury  of  the  women  is  more  terrible,  because  more 
deliberate  and  merciless,  than  the  brutality  of  the  men. 
At  a  little  distance,  perhaps,  would  be  a  small  chapel 
with  the  priest's  house  adjacent,  and  the  somewhat  more 
commodious  houses  of  the  tax-gatherer  and  starosta 
—  the  head  man  of  the  village,  when  he  happened 
to  be  a  farmer.  Sometimes  he  was  a  kalak  keeper, 
scarce  one  degree  superior  to  his  fellows.  One  could 
tell  the  tax-gatherer's  house  a  mile  away  by  its  pros- 
perous appearance,  and  the  kind  of  courtyard  round  it, 
closed  in  with  a  solid  breast-high  log  fence ;  for  in  these 
days  the  hated  official  may  at  any  moment  find  his 
house  besieged  by  a  mob  of  vodka-maddened  moujiks 
and  implacable  women.  If  he  and  his  guard  of  one  or 
two  armed  stragniki  (rural  police)  are  unable  to  hold 
out  till  help  comes,  —  well,  there  is  red  murder,  another 
house  in  flames,  a  vodka  orgy  in  the  frenzied  village, 


THE  ROAD  TO  ZOSTROV  221 

and  retribution  next  day  or  the  day  after,  when  the 
Cossacks  arrive,  and  there  is  more  red  murder.  Then 
every  man,  woman,  and  child  left  in  the  place  is  slaugh- 
tered; and  the  agglomeration  of  miserable  huts  that 
form  the  village  is  burned  to  the  ground. 

That,  at  least,  is  the  explanation  Mishka  gave  me 
when  we  rode  through  a  heap  of  still  smouldering  and 
indescribably  evil-smelling  ruins,  where  there  was  no 
sign  of  life,  beyond  a  few  disreputable-looking  pigs  and 
fowls  grubbing  about  in  what  should  have  been  the 
cultivated  ground.  The  peasant's  holdings  are  incon- 
ceivably neglected,  for  the  moujik  is  the  laziest  crea- 
ture on  God's  earth.  In  the  days  of  his  serfdom  he 
worked  under  the  whip,  but  as  a  freeman  he  has 
reduced  his  labor  to  a  minimum,  especially  since  the 
revolutionary  propagandists  have  told  him  that  he  is 
the  true  lord  of  the  soil,  who  should  pay  no  taxes,  and 
should  live  at  ease,  —  and  in  sloth. 

The  sight  and  stench  of  that  holocaust  sickened  me, 
but  Mishka  rode  forward  stolidly,  unmoved  either 
physically  or  mentally. 

"They  bring  it  on  themselves,"  he  said  philosophi- 
cally. "If  they  would  work  more  and  drink  less  they 
could  live  and  pay  their  taxes  well  enough  and  there 
would  be  no  trouble." 

"But  why  on  earth  didn't  they  make  themselves 
scarce  after  they  'd  settled  scores  with  the  tax  collector, 
instead  of  waiting  to  be  massacred  ?"  I  mused. 

"God  knows,"  said  Mishka.  "The  moujik  is  a 
beast  that  goes  mad  at  the  sight  and  smell  of  blood,  and 
one  that  takes  no  thought  for  the  morrow.  Also,  where 
would  they  run  to  ?  They  would  soon  be  hunted  down. 
Now  they  have  had  their  taste  of  blood,  and  paid  for 


222  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

it  in  full,  that  is  all.  There  were  no  Jews  there,"  he 
jerked  his  head  backwards,  "otherwise  they  might 
have  had  their  taste  without  payment." 

"What  do  you  mean?"   I  asked. 

He  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders. 

"Wait,  and  perhaps  you  will  see.  Have  you  never 
heard  of  a  pogrom?" 

And  that  was  all  I  could  get  out  of  him  at  the  time. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

THE   OLD   JEW 

halted  for  the  night  at  a  small  town,  with 
some  five  or  six  thousand  inhabitants  as  I 
judged,  of  whom  three-fourths  appeared  to  be  Jews. 
Compared  with  the  villages  we  had  passed,  the  place 
was  a  flourishing  one;  and  seemed  quiet  enough, 
though  here  again,  as  at  Wilna  and  Riga,  there  was 
something  ominous  in  the  air.  Nearly  all  the  business 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  Jews;  and  their  shops  and 
houses,  poor  enough,  according  to  civilized  notions, 
were  far  and  away  more  prosperous  looking  than  those 
of  their  Russian  neighbors;  while  their  synagogue  was 
the  most  imposing  block  hi  the  town,  which  is  not 
saying  much,  perhaps. 

We  put  up  at  the  best  inn  in  the  place,  where  we 
found  fresh  horses  waiting  us,  as  we  had  done  at  a 
village  half-way  on  our  day's  march,  under  the  care  of 
a  couple  of  men  in  uniform.  There  was  a  telegraph 
wire  to  Zostrov,  and  Mishka  had  sent  word  of  our  com- 
ing. I  learned  later  that,  when  the  Grand  Duke  was 
in  residence,  a  constant  line  of  communication  was 
maintained  with  relays  of  horses  for  carriages  or  riders 
between  the  Castle  and  the  railroad. 

I  had  wondered,  when  Mishka  told  me  the  arrange- 
ments for  the  journey,  why  on  earth  motor  cars  were  n't 
used  over  this  last  stage,  but  when  I  found  what  the 
roads  were  like,  when  there  were  any  roads  at  all,  I 


224  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

guessed  it  was  wise  to  rely  on  horses,  and  on  the  light 
and  strong  Russian  travelling  carriages  that  go  gayly 
over  the  roughest  track,  rather  than  on  the  best  built 
motor  procurable. 

The  landlord  of  the  inn  was  a  Jew,  of  course,  —  a 
lean  old  man  with  greasy  ear  locks  and  a  long  beard, 
above  which  his  hooked  nose  looked  like  the  beak  of  a 
dejected  eagle.  He  welcomed  us  with  cringing  effusion, 
and  gave  us  of  his  best.  I  'd  have  thought  the  place 
filthy,  if  I  had  n't  seen  and  smelt  those  Russian  villages ; 
but  it  was  well  appointed  in  a  way.  The  dinner-table, 
set  in  the  one  bedroom  which  we  were  to  share,  so  that 
we  might  dine  privately  and  in  state,  was  spread  with 
a  cloth,  which,  though  grimy  to  a  degree,  was  of  fine 
damask,  and  displayed  forks,  spoons,  and  candlesticks 
of  solid  silver.  The  frowsy  sheets  and  coverlids  on  the 
three  beds  were  of  linen  and  silk.  Evidently  Moses 
Barzinsky  was  a  wealthy  man ;  and  his  wife,  —  a  fat 
dame,  with  beady  eyes  and  a  preposterous  black  wig, 
—  served  us  up  as  good  a  meal  as  I've  ever  tasted. 
I  complimented  her  on  it  when  she  brought  in  the 
samovar;  for  here,  in  the  wilds,  it  did  n't  seem  to  matter 
about  keeping  up  my  pretended  ignorance  of  the  lan- 
guage. She  was  flattered,  and  assumed  quite  a  motherly 
air  towards  me;  she  didn't  cringe  like  her  husband. 
As  I  sat  there,  sipping  my  tea,  and  chatting  with  her, 
I  little  guessed  what  would  befall  the  comfortable, 
homely,  good-tempered  old  lady  a  very  few  days  hence. 
Mishka  listened  in  disapproving  silence  to  our  inter- 
change of  badinage,  and,  when  our  hostess  retreated, 
he  entered  on  a  grumbling  protest. 

"You  are  very  indiscreet,"  he  grunted.  "Why  do 
you  want  to  chatter  with  a  thing  like  that?" 


THE  OLD   JEW  225 

He  jerked  his  pipe  towards  the  doorway;  Mishka 
despised  the  cigarette  which,  to  every  other  Russian 
I  have  met,  seems  as  necessary  to  life  as  the  air  he 
breathes ;  and  when  he  had  n't  a  cigar  fell  back  on  a 
distinctly  malodorous  briar. 

"Why  in  thunder  shouldn't  I  talk  to  her?"  I  de- 
manded. "She  's  the  only  creature  I  've  heard  laugh 
since  I  got  back  into  Holy  Russia ;  it  cheers  one  up  a 
bit,  even  to  look  at  her !" 

"You  are  a  fool,"  was  his  complimentary  retort. 
"And  she  is  another  —  like  all  women  —  or  she  would 
know  these  are  no  days  for  laughter.  But,  I  tell  you 
once  more,  you  cannot  be  too  cautious.  You  must  re- 
member that  you  know  no  Russian.  You  are  only  an 
American  who  has  come  to  help  the  prince  while  away 
his  time  of  exile  by  trying  to  turn  the  Zostrov  moujiks 
Into  good  farmers.  That,  in  itself,  is  a  form  of  mad- 
ness, of  course,  but  doubtless  they  think  it  may  keep 
him  out  of  more  dangerous  mischief." 

"Who  are  'they'?  I  wish  you  'd  be  a  bit  more  ex- 
plicit," I  remonstrated.  He  did  make  me  angry 
sometimes. 

"That  is  not  my  business,"  he  answered  stolidly. 
"My  business  is  to  obey  orders,  and  one  of  those  is  to 
bring  you  safely  to  Zostrov." 

I  could  not  see  how  my  innocent  conversation  with 
the  fat  Jewish  housewife  could  endanger  the  safety  of 
either  of  us;  but  I  had  already  learned  that  it  was 
quite  useless  to  argue  with  Mishka;  so,  adopting 
Brer  Fox's  tactics,  "I  lay  low  and  said  nuffin."  We 
smoked  in  silence  for  some  minutes,  while  I  mused 
over  the  strangeness  of  my  position.  I  had  determined 
to  return  to  Russia  in  search  of  Anne;  had  hailed 

15 


226  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

Mishka's  intervention,  seized  on  the  opportunity  pro- 
vided by  the  Grand  Duke's  invitation,  as  if  they  were 
God-sent.  And  yet  here  I  was,  seemingly  even  farther 
from  news  of  her  than  I  had  been  in  England,  playing 
my  part  as  a  helpless  pawn  in  a  game  that  I  did  not 
understand  in  the  least. 

The  landlord  entered  presently,  and  obsequiously 
beckoned  Mishka  to  the  far  end  of  the  room,  where 
they  held  a  whispered  conversation,  which  I  tried  not 
to  listen  to,  though  I  could  not  help  overhearing 
frequent  references  to  the  Starosta  (mayor),  an  im- 
portant functionary  in  a  town  of  this  size,  and  the 
commandant  of  the  garrison.  From  my  post  of  obser- 
vation by  the  window  I  had  already  noticed  a  great 
number  of  soldiers  about;  though  whether  there  was 
anything  unusual  in  the  presence  of  such  a  strong  mili- 
tary force  I,  of  course,  did  not  know. 

Mishka  crossed  over  to  me. 

"I  am  going  out  for  a  time.    You  will  remain  here  ?" 

"I  '11  see.  Perhaps  I  '11  go  for  a  stroll  later,"  I  re- 
plied. It  had  occurred  to  me  that  he  regarded  me  al- 
most as  a  prisoner,  and  I  wanted  to  make  sure  on  that 
point. 

"Please  yourself,"  he  returned  in  his  sullen  manner. 
"But  if  you  go,  remember  my  warning,  and  observe 
caution.  If  there  should  be  any  disturbance  in  the 
streets,  keep  out  of  it ;  or,  if  you  should  be  within  here, 
close  the  shutters  and  put  the  lights  out." 

"All  right.  I  guess  I  'm  fairly  well  able  to  take  care 
of  myself,"  I  said  imperturbably ;  though  I  thought 
he  might  have  given  me  credit  for  the  possession  of 
average  common  sense,  anyhow  ! 

I  went  out  soon  after  he  did,  more  as  a  kind  of  asser- 


THE  OLD  JEW  £27 

tion  of  my  independence  than  because  I  was  inclined  for 
a  walk.  It  was  some  time  since  I  'd  been  so  many  hours 
in  the  saddle  as  I  had  that  day,  and  I  was  dead  tired. 

It  was  a  glorious  autumn  evening,  clear  and  still, 
with  the  glow  of  the  sunset  still  lingering  in  the  western 
sky,  though  the  moon  was  rising,  and  putting  to  shame 
the  squalid  lights  of  the  streets  and  shops.  The  side- 
walks —  a  trifle  cleaner  and  more  level  than  the  rutted 
roadway  between  them  —  were  thronged  with  passers ; 
many  of  them  were  soldiers  swaggering  in  their  dis- 
reputably slovenly  uniforms,  and  leering  at  every 
heavy-visaged  Russian  woman  they  met.  I  did  not  see 
one  woman  abroad  that  evening  who  looked  like  a 
Jewess;  though  there  were  Jews  in  plenty,  slinking 
along  unobtrusively,  and  eying  the  Russian  soldiers 
and  townsmen  askance,  with  glances  compounded  of 
fear  and  hatred. 

I  attracted  a  good  deal  of  attention ;  a  foreigner  was 
evidently  an  unusual  object  in  that  town.  But  I  was 
not  really  molested;  and,  acting  on  Mishka's  advice, 
I  affected  ignorance  of  the  many  and  free  remarks 
passed  on  my  personal  appearance. 

I  walked  on,  almost  to  the  outskirts  of  the  little  town, 
and  turned  to  retrace  my  steps,  when  I  was  waylaid  by 
a  pedler,  who  had  passed  me  a  minute  or  so  before.  He 
looked  just  like  scores  of  others  I  had  seen  within  the 
last  few  minutes,  except  that  he  carried  a  small  but 
heavy  pack,  and  walked  heavily,  leaning  on  his  thick 
staff  like  a  man  wearied  with  a  long  day's  tramp. 

Now  I  found  he  had  halted,  and  as  I  came  abreast 
with  him,  he  held  out  one  skinny  hand  with  an  arresting 
gesture.  For  a  moment  I  thought  he  was  merely  beg- 
ging, but  his  first  words  dispelled  that  notion. 


228  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"Is  it  wise  of  the  English  excellency  to  walk  abroad 
alone,  —  here?"  he  asked  earnestly,  in  a  voice  and 
patois  that  sounded  queerly  familiar.  I  stopped  short 
and  stared  at  him,  and  then,  in  a  flash,  I  knew  him, 
though  as  yet  he  had  not  recognized  me,  save  as  a 
foreigner. 

He  was  the  old  Jew  who  had  come  to  my  flat  on  the 
night  of  Cassavetti's  murder ! 


Then,  in  a  flash,  I  knew  him.     Page 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

A   BAFFLING   INTERVIEW 

"TT  is  less  safe  than  the  streets  of  London,  perhaps," 

-i-  I  said  quietly,  in  Russian.  "But  what  of  that? 
And  how  long  is  it  since  you  left  there,  my  friend  ?" 

He  peered  at  me  suspiciously,  and  spread  his  free 
hand  with  the  quaint,  graceful  gesture  he  had  used 
before.  I  'd  have  known  the  man  anywhere  by  that 
alone;  though  in  some  ways  he  looked  different  now, 
less  frail  and  emaciated  than  he  had  been,  with  a 
wiry  vigor  about  him  that  made  him  seem  younger 
than  I  had  thought  him. 

"The  excellency  mistakes !"  he  said.  "How  should 
such  an  one  as  I  get  to  London  ?" 

"That  is  for  you  to  say.  I  know  only  that  you  are  the 
man  who  wanted  to  see  Vladimir  Selinski.  And  now 
you  've  got  to  come  and  see  me,  at  once,  at  the  inn 
kept  by  Moses  Barzinsky." 

"Speak  lower,  Excellency,"  he  stammered,  glancing 
nervously  around.  "In  God's  name,  go  back  to  your 
inn.  You  are  in  danger,  as  all  strangers  are  here;  yea, 
and  all  others !  That  is  why  I  warned  you.  But  you 
mistake.  I  am  not  the  man  you  think,  so  why  should  I 
come  to  you  ?  Permit  me  to  go  on  my  way." 

He  made  as  if  to  move  on,  and  I  could  n't  detain  him 
forcibly  and  insist  on  his  accompanying  me,  for  that 
would  have  drawn  attention  to  us.  Fortunately  there 


230  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

were  few  people  hereabouts,  but  those  few  were  already 
looking  askance  at  us. 

An  inspiration  came  to  me.  I  thought  of  the  red 
symbol  that  had  dangled  from  the  key  of  Cassavetti's 
flat  that  night,  and  of  the  signal  and  password  Mishka 
had  taught  me  in  Petersburg. 

In  two  strides  I  caught  up  with  him,  touched  his 
shoulder  with  the  five  rapid  little  taps,  thumb  and 
fingers  in  succession,  and  said  in  his  ear:  "You  will 
come  to  Barzinsky's  within  the  hour,  —  '  For  Freedom.' 
You  understand?" 

I  guessed  that  would  fetch  him,  for  I  felt  him  thrill  — 
it  was  scarcely  a  start  —  under  the  touch. 

"I  will  come,  Excellency;  I  will  not  fail,"  he  an- 
swered promptly.  "But  go  you  now,  —  not  hurriedly."  • 

I  had  n't  the  least  intention  of  hurrying,  but  passed 
on  without  further  parley,  and  reached  the  inn  un- 
hindered. Mishka  had  not  yet  returned,  and  I  told 
the  landlord  a  pedler  was  coming  to  see  me,  and  he  was 
to  be  brought  up  to  my  room  at  once. 

As  I  closed  the  shutters  I  wondered  if  he  would  come, 
or  if  he  'd  give  me  the  slip  as  he  did  in  Westminster, 
but  within  half  an  hour  Barzinsky  brought  him  up. 
The  landlord  looked  quite  scared,  his  ear-locks  were 
quivering  with  his  agitation. 

"Yossof  is  here,  Excellency,"  he  announced,  so  he 
evidently  knew  my  man. 

I  nodded  and  motioned  him  out  of  the  room,  for  he 
hovered  around  as  if  he  wanted  to  stay. 

Yossof  stood  at  the  end  of  the  room,  in  an  attitude  of 
humility,  his  gray  head  bowed,  his  dingy  fur  cap  held 
in  his  skinny  fingers;  but  his  piercing  dark  eyes  were 
fixed  earnestly  on  my  face,  and,  when  Barzinsky  was 


A  BAFFLING  INTERVIEW  231 

gone  and  the  door  was  shut,  he  came  forward  and  made 
his  obeisance. 

"I  know  the  Excellency  now,  although  the  beard  has 
changed  him,"  he  said  quietly.  His  speech  was  much 
more  intelligible  than  it  had  been  that  time  in  West- 
minster. "I  remember  his  goodness  to  me,  a  stranger 
in  the  land.  May  the  God  of  our  fathers  bless  him ! 
But  I  knew  not  then  that  he  also  was  one  of  us.  Why 
have  you  not  the  new  password,  Excellency  ? " 

"I  have  but  now  come  hither  from  England  at  the 
peril  of  my  life,  and  as  yet  I  have  met  none  whom  I 
knew  as  one  of  us,"  I  answered  evasively.  "What  is 
this  new  word  ?  It  is  necessary  that  I  should  learn  it," 
I  added,  as  he  hesitated. 

"I  will  tell  you  its  meaning  only,"  he  answered, 
watching  me  closely.  "It  means  'in  life  and  in  death,' 

—  but  those  are  not  the  words." 

"Then  I  know  them :  a  la  vie  et  a  la  mart;  is  it  not 
so  ? "  I  asked,  remembering  the  moment  he  spoke  the 
names  by  which  Anne  was  known  to  others  besides 
members  of  the  League ;  for  the  police  officer  who  had 
superintended  the  searching  of  my  rooms  at  Petersburg, 
and  later,  young  Mirakoff,  had  both  mentioned  one  of 
them. 

I  had  hit  on  the  right  words  first  tune,  and  Yossof, 
evidently  relieved,  nodded,  and  repeated  them  after 
me,  giving  a  queer  inflection  to  the  French. 

"And  where  is  she,  —  the  gracious  lady  herself?" 
I  asked.  It  was  with  an  effort  that  I  forced  myself  to 
speak  quietly;  for  my  heart  was  thumping  against  my 
ribs,  and  my  throat  felt  dry  as  bone  dust.  What  could 

—  or  would  —  this  weird  creature  tell  me  of  Anne's 
present  movements ;  and  could  —  or  would  —  he  tell  me 


232  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

the  secret  of  Cassavetti's  murder?  Through  all  these 
weeks  I  had  clung  to  the  hope,  the  belief,  that  he  him- 
self struck  the  blow,  and  now.  as  he  stood  before  me, 
he  appeared  more  capable,  physically,  of  such  a  deed 
than  he  had  done  then.  But  yet  I  could  scarcely  be- 
lieve it  as  I  looked  at  him. 

He  met  my  question  with  another,  as  Mishka  so 
often  did. 

"How  is  it  you  do  not  know?" 

"I  have  told  you  I  have  but  now  come  to  Russia." 

He  spread  his  hands  with  a  deprecatory  gesture  as  if 
to  soften  his  reply,  which,  however,  was  spoken  de- 
cisively enough. 

"Then  I  cannot  tell  you.  Remember,  Excellency, 
though  you  seem  to  be  one  of  us,  I  have  little  knowledge 
of  you.  In  any  matter  touching  myself  I  would  trust 
you;  but  in  this  I  dare  not." 

He  was  right  in  a  way.  Such  knowledge  as  I  had  of 
the  accursed  League  was  gained  by  trickery;  and  to 
question  him  further  would  arouse  his  suspicion  of  that 
fact,  and  I  should  then  learn  nothing  at  all. 

"Listen,"  I  said  slowly  and  emphatically.  "You 
may  trust  me  to  the  death  in  all  matters  that  concern 
her  whom  you  call  your  gracious  lady.  I  was  beside 
her,  with  her  father  and  one  other,  when  the  Five  con- 
demned her,  —  would  have  murdered  her  if  we  had 
not  defended  her.  She  escaped,  God  be  thanked,  but 
that  I  only  learned  of  late.  I  was  taken,  thrown  into 
prison,  taken  thence  back  to  England,  to  prison  again, 
accused  of  the  murder  of  Vladimir  Selinski,  —  of  which 
I  shall  have  somewhat  more  to  say  to  you  soon  !  When 
I  was  freed,  for  I  am  innocent  of  that  crime,  as  you  well 
know,  I  set  out  to  seek  her,  to  aid  her  if  that  might  be; 


A  BAFFLING  INTERVIEW  233 

and,  if  she  was  beyond  my  aid,  at  least  to  avenge  her. 
I  was  about  to  start  alone  when  I  heard  that  she  was 
no  longer  threatened  by  the  League;  that  she  was, 
indeed,  once  more  at  the  head  of  it;  but  I  failed  to 
learn  where  I  might  find  her.  Therefore  I  go  to  join 
one  who  is  her  good  friend,  in  the  hope  that  I  may 
through  hun  be  yet  able  to  serve  her.  For  the  League 
I  care  nothing,  —  all  my  care  is  for  her.  And  there- 
fore, as  I  have  said,  you  may  trust  me." 

He  watched  me  fixedly  as  I  spoke,  but  his  gaunt  face 
remained  expressionless ;  though  his  next  words  showed 
that  he  had  understood  me  well  enough. 

"I  can  tell  you  nothing,  Excellency.  You  say  you 
care  for  her  and  not  for  the  League.  That  is  impos- 
sible, for  she  is  its  life ;  her  life  is  bound  up  in  it ;  she 
would  wish  your  service  for  it,  —  never  for  herself ! 
This  I  will  do.  If  she  does  not  hear  otherwise  that  you 
are  at  Zostrov,  as  you  will  be  to-morrow  —  though  it  is 
unlikely  that  she  will  not  have  heard  already  —  I  will 
see  that  she  has  word.  That  is  all  I  can  do." 

"That  must  serve.  You  will  not  even  say  if  she  is 
near  at  hand?" 

"Who  knows  ?  She  comes  and  goes.  One  day  she  is 
at  Warsaw ;  the  next  at  Wilna ;  now  at  Grodno ;  again 
even  here.  Yes,  she  has  been  here  no  longer  than  a 
week  since,  though  she  is  not  here  now." 

So  I  had  missed  her  by  one  week ! 

"I  do  not  know  where  she  is  to-day,  nor  where  she 
will  be  to-morrow;  in  this  I  verily  speak  the  truth, 
Excellency,"  he  continued.  "Though  I  shall  perchance 
see  her,  when  my  present  business  is  done.  Be  patient. 
You  will  doubtless  have  news  of  her  at  Zostrov." 

"How  do  you  know  I  am  going  there  ?" 


234  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"Does  not  all  the  countryside  know  that  a  foreigner 
rides  with  Mishka  Pavloff?  God  be  with  you,  Excel- 
lency." 

He  made  one  of  his  quaint  genuflexions  and  backed 
rapidly  to  the  door. 

"Here,  stop!"  I  commanded,  striding  after  him. 
"There  is  more,  —  much  more  to  say.  Why  did  you 
not  keep  your  promise  and  return  to  me  in  London  ? 
What  do  you  know  of  Selinski's  murder  ?  Speak,  man ; 
you  have  nothing  to  fear  from  me ! " 

I  had  clutched  his  shoulder,  and  he  made  no  attempt 
to  free  himself,  but  drooped  passively  under  my  hand. 
But  his  quiet  reply  was  inflexible. 

"Of  all  that  I  can  tell  you  nothing,  Excellency.  It  is 
best  forgotten." 

There  was  a  heavy  footstep  on  the  stair  and  next 
moment  the  door  was  tried,  and  Mishka's  voice  ex- 
claimed: "It  is  I.  Open  to  me,  Herr  Gould." 

There  was  no  help  for  it,  so  I  drew  back  the  bolt. 
The  door  had  no  lock,  —  only  bolts  within  and  without. 

As  Mishka  entered,  the  Jew  bowed  low  to  him,  and 
slipped  through  the  doorway.  Mishka  glanced  sharply 
at  me,  muttered  something  about  returning  soon,  and 
followed  Yossof,  closing  the  door  behind  him  and 
shooting  the  outer  bolt. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

STILL   ON  THE   ROAD 

"  T  \  TILL    you    never    learn  wisdom?"  demanded 
V  V     Mishka,  when,   after  a  few  minutes,  he  re- 
turned.    "Why  could  you  not  rest  here  in  safety?" 

"Because  I  wanted  to  walk  some  of  my  stiffness  off," 
I  replied  coolly.  "  I  had  quite  a  good  time,  and  met  an 
old  acquaintance." 

"Who  gave  you  much  interesting  news?"  he  asked, 
with  a  sardonic  inflection  of  his  deep  voice  that  made  me 
guess  Yossof  had  told  him  what  passed  at  our  interview. 

"Why,  no ;  I  can't  say  that  he  did  that,"  I  confessed. 
Already  I  realized  that  I  had  learned  absolutely  nothing 
from  the  Jew  save  the  new  password,  and  the  fact  that 
he  was,  or  soon  would  be,  in  direct  communication  with 
Anne. 

Mishka  gave  an  approving  grunt. 

"There  are  some  who  might  learn  discretion  from 
Yossof,"  he  remarked  sententiously. 

"Just  so.  But  who  is  he,  anyhow?  He  might  be 
'the  wandering  Jew'  himself,  from  the  mysterious  way 
he  seems  to  get  around  the  world." 

"Who  and  what  he  is?  That  I  cannot  tell  you,  for 
I  do  not  know,  or  seek  to  know,  since  it  is  no  business 
of  mine.  I  go  to  bed;  for  we  must  start  betimes  in 
the  morning." 

Not  another  word  did  he  speak,  beyond  a  surly 
"good  night;"  but,  though  I  followed  his  example  and 


236  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

got  into  bed,  with  my  revolver  laid  handily  on  the 
bolster  as  he  had  placed  his,  hours  passed  before  sleep 
came  to  me.  I  lay  listening  to  Mishka's  snores,  —  he 
was  a  noisy  sleeper,  —  and  thinking  of  Anne ;  thinking 
of  that  one  blissful  month  in  London  when  I  saw  her 
nearly  every  day. 

How  vividly  I  remembered  our  first  meeting,  less 
than  five  months  back,  though  the  events  of  a  lifetime 
seemed  to  have  occurred  since  then.  It  was  the  evening 
of  my  return  from  South  Africa ;  and  I  went,  of  course, 
to  dine  at  Chelsea,  feeling  only  a  mild  curiosity  to  see 
this  old  schoolfellow  of  Mary's,  whose  praises  she  sang 
so  enthusiastically. 

"She  was  always  the  prettiest  and  smartest  girl  in  the 
school,  but  now  she's  just  the  loveliest  creature  you 
ever  saw,"  Mary  had  declared ;  and  though  I  was  n't 
rude  enough  to  say  so,  I  guessed  I  was  not  likely  to 
endorse  that  verdict. 

But  when  I  saw  Anne  my  scepticism  vanished.  I 
think  I  loved  her  from  that  first  moment,  when  she 
came  sweeping  into  Mary's  drawing-room  in  a  gown 
of  some  gauzy  brown  stuff,  almost  the  color  of  her 
glorious  hair,  with  a  bunch  of  white  lilies  at  her  bosom. 
She  greeted  me  with  a  frank  friendliness  that  was  much 
more  like  an  American  than  an  English  girl;  indeed, 
even  then,  I  never  thought  of  her  as  English.  She  was, 
as  her  father  had  told  his  friend  Treherne  he  meant  her 
to  be,  "cosmopolitan  to  her  finger-tips."  She  even 
spoke  English  with  a  curious  precision  and  delibera- 
tion, as  one  speaks  a  language  one  knows  perfectly,  but 
does  not  use  familiarly.  She  once  confided  to  me  that 
she  always  "thought"  either  in  French  or  German, 
preferably  French. 


STILL  ON  THE  ROAD  237 

Strange  that  neither  Mary  nor  I  ever  imagined  there 
was  any  mystery  in  her  life ;  ever  guessed  how  much  lay 
behind  her  frank  allusions  to  her  father,  and  the 
nomadic  existence  they  had  led.  I  wondered,  for  the 
thousandth  time,  how  it  was  that  Jim  first  suspected 
her  of  concealing  something.  How  angry  I  was  at  him 
when  he  hinted  his  suspicions;  and  yet  he  had  hit  on 
the  exact  truth  !  I  knew  now  that  her  visit  to  Mary  was 
not  what  it  had  seemed,  —  but  that  she  had  seized  upon 
the  opportunity  presented  by  the  invitation  to  snatch  a 
brief  interval  of  peace,  and  comparative  safety.  If  she 
had  happened  to  encounter  Cassavetti  earlier,  doubtless 
her  visit  would  have  terminated  then.  Yes,  that  must 
be  the  explanation ;  and  how  splendidly  she  had  played 
her  dangerous  part ! 

I  hated  to  think  of  all  the  duplicity  that  part  entailed ; 
I  would  not  think  of  it.  The  part  was  thrust  on  her, 
from  her  birth,  by  her  upbringing,  and  if  she  played  it 
gallantly,  fearlessly,  resourcefully,  the  more  honor  to  her. 
But  it  was  a  bitter  thought  that  Fortune  should  have 
thrust  all  this  upon  her! 

As  I  lay  there  in  that  frowzy  room,  staring  at  a  shaft 
of  moonlight  that  came  through  a  chink  in  the  shutters, 
making  a  bar  of  light  in  the  darkness  like  a  great,  un- 
sheathed sword,  her  face  was  ever  before  my  mind's 
eyes,  vividly  as  if  she  were  indeed  present,  —  the  lovely 
mobile  face,  "growing  and  fading  and  growing  before 
me  without  a  sound,"  now  sparkling  with  mirth,  now 
haughty  as  that  of  a  petulant  young  queen  towards 
a  disfavored  courtier.  Mary  used  to  call  her  "dear 
Lady  Disdain"  when  she  was  in  that  mood.  Again,  it 
appeared  pale  and  set  as  I  had  seen  it  last,  the  wide  bril- 
liant eyes  flashing  indignant  defiance  at  her  accusers; 


238  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

but  more  often  with  the  strange,  softened,  wistful  ex- 
pression it  had  worn  when  we  stood  together  under  the 
portico  of  the  Cecil  on  that  fatal  night;  and  when  she 
waved  me  good-bye  at  Charing  Cross. 

In  those  moments  one  phase  of  her  complex  nature 
had  been  uppermost;  and  in  those  moments  she  loved 
me,  —  me,  Maurice  Wynn,  not  Loris  Solovieff ,  or  any 
other ! 

I  would  not  have  relinquished  that  belief  to  save  my 
soul;  although  I  knew  well  that  the  mood  was  neces- 
sarily a  transient  one.  She  had  devoted  her  beauty,  her 
talents,  her  splendid  courage,  her  very  life,  to  a  hopeless 
cause.  She  was  as  a  queen,  whose  realm  is  beset  with 
dangers  and  difficulties,  and  who  therefore  can  spare 
little  or  no  thought  for  aught  save  affairs  of  state ;  and 
I  was  as  the  page  who  loved  her,  and  whom  she  might 
have  loved  in  return  if  she  had  been  but  a  simple 
gentlewoman.  Once  more  I  told  myself  that  I  would  be 
content  if  I  could  only  play  the  page's  part,  and  serve 
her  in  life  and  death,  "a  la  vie  et  a  la  mort"  as  the  new 
password  ran ;  but  how  was  I  even  to  begin  doing  that  ? 

An  unanswerable  question !  I  must  just  go  on 
blindly,  as  Fate  led  me;  and  Fate  at  this  moment  was 
prosaically  represented  by  Mishka.  Great  Scott,  how 
he  snored ! 

We  were  astir  early;  I  seemed  to  have  just  fallen 
asleep  when  Mishka  roused  me  and  announced  that 
breakfast  was  waiting,  and  the  horses  ready. 

We  rode  swiftly,  and  for  the  most  part  in  silence, 
as  my  companion  was  even  less  communicative  than 
usual.  I  noticed,  as  we  drew  near  to  Zostrov,  a  change 
for  the  better  in  the  aspect  of  the  country  and  the 
people.  The  last  twenty  versts  was  over  an  excellent 


STILL  ON  THE  ROAD  239 

road,  while  the  streets  of  the  village  where  we  found  our 
change  of  horses  waiting,  and  of  two  others  beyond, 
were  comparatively  clean  and  well-kept,  with  side- 
walks laid  with  wooden  blocks.  The  huts  were  more 
weather-tight  and  comfortable,  —  outside  at  any  rate. 
The  land  was  better  cultivated,  too,  and  the  moujiks, 
though  most  of  them  scowled  evilly  at  us,  looked  better 
fed  and  better  clothed  than  any  we  had  seen  before. 
They  all  wore  high  boots,  —  a  sure  sign  of  prosperity. 
Yesterday  boots  were  the  exception,  and  most  of  the 
people,  both  men  and  women,  were  shod  with  a  kind  of 
moccasin  made  of  plaited  grass,  and  had  their  limbs 
swathed  in  ragged  strips  of  cloth  kept  clumsily  in  place 
with  grass-string. 

"It  is  his  doing,"  Mishka  condescended  to  explain. 
"His  and  my  father's.  He  gives  the  word  and  the 
money,  and  my  father  and  those  under  him  do  the  rest. 
They  try  to  teach  these  lazy  swine  to  work  for  their 
own  sakes,  —  to  make  the  best  of  their  land ;  it  is  to 
further  that  end  that  all  the  new  gear  is  coming.  They 
will  have  the  use  of  it  —  these  pigs  —  for  nothing. 
They  will  not  even  give  thanks;  rather  will  they  turn 
and  bite  the  hand  that  helps  them;  that  tries  to  raise 
them  out  of  the  mud  in  which  they  wallow ! " 

He  spat  vigorously,  as  a  kind  of  corollary  to  his 
remarks. 

As  he  spoke  we  were  skirting  a  little  pine  wood  just 
beyond  the  village,  and  a  few  yards  further  the  road 
wound  clear  of  the  trees  and  out  across  an  open  plain, 
in  the  centre  of  which  rose  a  huge,  square  building  of 
gray  stone,  crowned  with  a  cupola  that  gleamed  red  in 
the  rays  of  the  setting  sun. 

"The  castle!"   Mishka  grunted. 


240  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"  It  looks  more  like  a  prison ! "  I  exclaimed  in- 
voluntarily. It  was  a  grim,  sinister-looking  pile,  even 
with  the  sun  upon  it. 

Mishka  did  not  answer  immediately.  There  was  a 
clatter  and  jingle  behind  us,  and  out  of  the  wood  rode 
a  company  of  horsemen,  all  in  uniform.  Two  rode 
ahead  of  the  rest,  one  of  them  the  Grand  Duke  himself. 

Mishka  reined  up  at  the  roadside,  and  sat  at  the 
salute,  and  I  followed  his  example. 

The  Duke  did  not  even  glance  in  our  direction  as  he 
passed,  though  he  acknowledged  our  salute  in  soldierly 
fashion. 

We  wheeled  our  horses  and  followed  well  in  the  rear 
of  the  imposing  escort,  —  a  whole  troop  of  cavalry. 

"You  are  right,"  Mishka  said,  in  a  husky  growl,  that 
with  him  represented  a  whisper.  "It  is  a  prison,  and 
yonder  goes  the  prisoner.  You  will  do  well  to  remem- 
ber that  in  your  dealings  with  him,  Herr  Gould." 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

THE   PRISONER   OF   ZOSTROV 

THE  castle  stood  within  a  great  quadrangle,  which 
we  entered  through  a  massive  stone  gateway 
guarded  by  two  sentries.  Two  more  were  stationed  at 
the  top  of  a  steep  and  wide  marble  stairway  that  led  up 
to  the  entrance  hall,  and  the  whole  place  seemed  swarm- 
ing with  soldiers,  and  servants  in  handsome  liveries.  A 
couple  of  grooms  came  to  hold  our  horses,  and  a  third 
took  possession  of  my  valise,  containing  chiefly  a  dress 
suit  and  some  shirts.  My  other  belongings  were  coming 
on  in  the  wagon. 

Mishka's  manner  underwent  a  decided  change  from 
the  moment  we  entered  the  castle  precincts.  The  bluff 
and  often  grumpy  air  of  familiarity  was  gone,  and  in 
its  place  was  the  surly  deference  with  which  he  had 
treated  me  at  first.  As  we  neared  the  end  of  our  journey, 
he  had  once  more  warned  me  to  be  on  my  guard,  and 
remember  that  I  must  appear  as  an  utter  stranger  to 
the  Duke  and  all  about  him,  except  Mishka  himself. 

"You  have  never  been  in  Russia  before,"  he  re- 
peated. "And  you  speak  only  a  few  words  of  Russian, 
which  I  have  taught  you  on  our  way.  That  will  matter 
little,  since  most  here  speak  French  and  German." 

He  parted  from  me  with  a  deferential  salute,  after 
handing  me  over  to  the  care  of  a  gorgeously  attired 
functionary,  whom  I  found  to  be  a  kind  of  majordomo 
or  house  steward.  This  imposing  person  welcomed  me 

16 


242  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

very  courteously;  and  I  gathered  that  I  was  supposed 
to  be  a  new  addition  to  the  Grand  Duke's  suite.  I  had 
rather  wondered  on  what  footing  I  should  be  received 
here,  especially  since  Mishka's  remark,  a  while  back, 
about  the  "prisoner."  But  some  one  —  Loris  himself 
or  Mishka,  or  both  of  them  —  had  planned  things 
perfectly,  and  I  am  sure  that  no  one  beyond  ourselves 
and  the  elder  Pavloff,  who  was  also  in  the  secret,  had 
the  slightest  suspicion  that  I  was  other  than  I  appeared 
to  be. 

My  new  acquaintance  himself  conducted  me  to  the 
rooms  prepared  for  me,  —  a  spacious  bedroom  and 
sitting-room,  with  plain,  massive  furniture,  including 
a  big  bookcase  that  occupied  the  whole  of  an  alcove 
between  the  great  Russian  stove  and  the  outer  wall. 
Facing  this  was  a  door  leading  to  a  smaller  dressing 
and  bath  room,  where  the  lackey  who  had  carried  up 
my  valise  was  in  waiting. 

"This  Nicolai  will  be  in  attendance  on  you;  he 
speaks  German,"  my  courteous  guide  informed  me  in 
French.  "He  will  bring  you  all  you  need;  you  have 
only  to  give  him  orders.  You  will  dine  at  the  officers' 
mess,  and  after  dinner  his  Highness  will  give  you 
audience." 

"Does  Monsieur  Pavloff  —  the  land  steward  —  live 
in  the  castle?"  I  asked,  thinking  it  wise  to  emphasize 
my  assumed  role.  "I  understand  that  I'll  have  to 
work  with  him." 

"No ;  his  house  is  some  two  versts  distant.  But  he  is 
often  in  attendance  here,  naturally.  Perhaps  you  will 
see  him  to-night;  if  not,  without  doubt,  you  will  meet 
him  to-morrow.  Nicolai  awaits  your  orders,  and  your 
keys." 


243 

He  bowed  ceremoniously,  and  took  himself  off. 

That  Nicolai  was  a  smart  fellow.  He  already  had 
the  bath  prepared,  —  I  must  have  looked  as  if  I  wanted 
one,  —  and  when  I  gave  him  the  key  of  my  bag,  he 
laid  out  my  clothes  with  the  quick  deftness  of  a  well- 
trained  valet. 

I  told  him  I  should  n't  want  him  any  more  at  present, 
but  when  I  had  bathed  and  changed,  I  found  him  still 
hovering  around  in  the  next  room.  He  had  set  a  tea- 
table,  on  which  the  silver  samovar  was  hissing  invitingly. 
He  wanted  to  stay  and  wait  on  me,  but  I  would  n't 
have  that.  Smart  and  attentive  as  he  was,  he  got  on 
my  nerves,  and  I  felt  I  'd  rather  be  alone.  So  I  dis- 
missed him,  and,  in  obedience  to  some  instinct  I  did  n't 
try  to  analyze,  crossed  the  room  softly,  and  locked  the 
door  through  which  he  had  passed. 

I  had  scarcely  seated  myself,  and  poured  out  a  glass 
of  delicious  Russian  tea,  —  which  is  as  wine  to  water 
compared  with  the  crude  beverage,  diluted  with  cream, 
which  Americans  and  western  Europeans  call  tea,  — • 
when  I  heard  a  queer  little  sound  behind  me.  I  glanced 
back,  and  saw  that  one  section  of  the  big  bookcase  had 
moved  forward  slightly.  With  my  right  hand  gripping 
the  revolver  that  I  had  transferred  from  my  travelling 
suit  to  the  hip  pocket  of  my  evening  clothes,  I  crossed 
swiftly  to  the  alcove,  just  as  some  three  feet  of  the 
shelves  swung  bodily  inwards,  revealing  a  doorway 
behind,  in  which  stood  none  other  than  Mishka. 

"The  fool  has  gone;  but  is  the  outer  door  locked  ?" 
he  asked  in  a  cautious  undertone. 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  noticing  as  I  spoke  that  he  stood 
at  the  top  of  a  narrow  spiral  staircase. 

"That  is  well.     Approach,  Highness;    all  is  safe," 


244  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

he  whispered  down  the  darkness  behind  him,  and 
flattened  himself  against  the  narrow  wall  space,  as  a 
second  figure  came  into  sight,  —  the  Grand  Duke 
Loris  himself,  who  greeted  me  with  outstretched 
hand. 

"  I  do  not  care  for  this  sort  of  thing,  —  this  elaborate 
secrecy,  Mr.  Wynn,"  he  said  softly  in  English.  "But 
unfortunately  it  is  necessary.  Let  us  go  through  to 
your  dressing-room.  There  it  is  less  likely  that  we  can 
be  overheard." 

I  followed  him  in  silence.  He  sat  himself  down  on 
the  wide  marble  edge  of  the  bath,  and  looked  at  me,  as 
I  stood  before  him,  as  though  his  brilliant  blue  eyes 
would  read  my  very  soul. 

"So  you  have  come;  as  I  thought  you  would.  And 
you  are  very  welcome.  But  why  have  you  come  ? " 

"  Because  I  hope  to  serve  your  Highness,  and  —  she 
whom  we  both  love,"  I  answered  promptly. 

"Yes,  I  was  sure  of  that,  although  we  have  met  only 
twice  or  thrice.  I  am  seldom  mistaken  in  a  man  whom 
I  have  once  looked  in  the  eyes;  and  I  know  I  can 
trust  you,  as  I  dare  trust  few  others,  —  none  within 
these  walls  save  the  good  Mishka.  He  has  told  you 
that  I  am  virtually  a  prisoner  here?" 

I  bowed  assent. 

"I  am  closely  guarded,  my  every  word,  my  every 
gesture  noted;  though  when  the  time  is  ripe,  or  when 
she  sends  word  that  she  needs  me,  I  shall  slip  away ! 
There  is  a  great  game,  a  stern  one,  preparing;  and 
there  will  be  a  part  for  us  both  to  play.  I  will  give  you 
the  outline  to-night,  when  I  shall  come  to  you  again. 
That  staircase  yonder  leads  down  to  my  apartments. 
I  had  it  made  years  ago  by  foreign  workmen,  and 


THE  PRISONER  OF  ZOSTROV         245 

none  save  myself  and  the  Pavloffs  —  and  you  now  — 
know  of  its  existence,  so  far.  In  public  we  must  be 
strangers ;  after  the  formal  audience  I  give  you  to-night 
I  shall  probably  ignore  you  altogether.  But  as  Gould, 
the  American  farming  expert,  you  will  be  able  to  come 
and  go,  riding  the  estates  with  Pavloff  —  or  without 
him  —  and  yet  rouse  no  suspicion.  To-night  I  shall 
return  as  I  said ;  and  now  au  revoir." 

He  left  just  in  time,  for  a  minute  or  two  after  I 
had  unlocked  the  door,  Nicolai  reappeared,  and  con- 
ducted me  to  an  anteroom  where  I  found  quite  a  throng 
of  officers,  one  of  whom  introduced  himself  as  Colonel 
Grodwitz,  and  presented  me  to  several  of  the  others. 
They  all  treated  me  with  the  easy  courtesy  which  well- 
bred  Russians  assume — and  discard — with  such  facil- 
ity; but  then,  and  later,  I  had  to  be  constantly  on 
guard  against  innumerable  questions,  which,  though 
asked  in  what  appeared  to  be  a  perfectly  frank  and 
spontaneous  manner,  were,  I  was  convinced,  sprung 
on  me  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  how  much  I 
knew  of  Russia  and  its  complicated  affairs. 

But  I  was  quite  ready  for  them,  and  if  they  had  any 
suspicions  I  hope  they  abandoned  them  for  the  present. 

After  dinner  a  resplendent  footman  brought  a  mes- 
sage to  Grodwitz,  who  thereupon  told  me  that  he  was 
to  conduct  me  to  his  Highness,  who  would  receive  me 
now. 

"Say,  what  shall  I  have  to  do?"  I  asked  confiden- 
tially as  we  passed  along  a  magnificent  corridor.  "  I  've 
been  to  a  levee  held  by  the  King  of  England,  but  I 
don't  know  anything  of  Russian  Court  etiquette." 

He  laughed  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"There   is  no  need   for  you   to   observe  etiquette, 


246  THE  RED   SYMBOL 

mow  ami.  Are  you  not  an  American  and  a  Republican  ? 
Therefore  none  will  blame  you  if  you  are  unceremoni- 
ous, —  least  of  all  our  puissant  Grand  Duke !  Have 
you  not  heard  that  he  himself  is  a  kind  of  'Jacques 
bonhomme'  ?" 

"That  means  just  a  peasant,  doesn't  it?"  I  asked 
obtusely.  "No,  I  hadn't  heard  that." 

He  laughed  again. 

"Did  the  good  Mishka  tell  you  nothing?" 

"  Why,  no ;  he  's  the  surliest  and  most  silent  fellow 
I  've  ever  travelled  with." 

"He  is  discreet,  that  Mishka,"  said  Grodwitz,  and 
drew  himself  up  stiffly  as  the  footman,  who  had  pre- 
ceded us,  threw  open  a  door,  and  ushered  us  into  the 
Duke's  presence. 

He  was  standing  before  a  great  open  fireplace  in 
which  a  log  fire  crackled  cheerily,  and  beside  him  was 
the  little  fat  officer  I  had  seen  him  with  before;  while 
there  were  several  others  present,  all  ceremoniously 
standing,  and  looking  more  or  less  bored. 

Our  interview  was  brief  and  formal;  but  I  noted 
that  the  fat  officer  and  Grodwitz  were  keenly  observant 
of  all  that  passed. 

"Well,  that 's  all  right,"  I  said  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 
when  Grodwitz  and  I  were  back  in  the  corridor  again. 
"  But  there  does  n't  seem  to  be  much  of  the  peasant 
about  him ! " 

"I  was  but  jesting,  mon  ami,"  Grodwitz  assured  me. 
"  But  now  your  ordeal  is  over.  You  will  take  a  hand  at 
bridge,  hein?" 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

THE    GAME    BEGINS 

THAT  hand  at  bridge  lasted  till  long  past  midnight, 
and  I  only  got  away  at  last  on  the  plea  that  I  was 
dead  tired  after  my  two  days'  ride. 

"Tired  or  not,  you  play  a  good  hand,  mon  ami!" 
Grodwitz  declared.  We  had  been  partners,  and  had 
won  all  before  us. 

"They  shall  have  their  revenge  in  good  time,"  I  said, 
stifling  a  yawn.  "  Bonsoir,  messieurs." 

I  sent  Nicolai  to  bed,  and  wrapping  myself  in  a 
dressing  gown  which  I  found  laid  out  for  me,  sat  down 
in  a  deep  divan  chair  to  await  the  Duke,  and  fell  fast 
asleep.  I  woke  with  a  start,  as  the  great  clock  over  the 
castle  gateway  boomed  four,  and  saw  the  Duke  sitting 
quietly  smoking  in  a  chair  opposite. 

He  cut  short  my  stammered  apologies  in  the  frank 
unceremonious  manner  he  always  used  when  we  were 
alone  together,  and  plunged  at  once  into  the  matter 
that  was  uppermost  in  his  mind,  as  in  mine. 

Now  at  last  I  learned  something  of  the  working  of 
that  League  with  which  I  had  become  so  mysteriously 
entangled,  and  of  his  and  Anne's  connection  with  it. 

"For  years  its  policy  was  sheerly  destructive,"  he 
told  me.  "Its  aims  were  as  vague  as  its  organization 
was  admirable.  At  least  nine-tenths  of  the  so-called 
Nihilist  murders  and  outrages,  in  Russia  as  elsewhere, 


248  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

have  been  planned  and  carried  out  by  its  executive  and 
members.  To  '  remove '  all  who  came  under  their  ban, 
including  any  among  their  own  ranks  who  were  sus- 
pected of  treachery,  or  even  of  delaying  in  carrying 
out  their  orders,  was  practically  its  one  principle.  But 
the  time  for  this  insensate  indiscriminating  violence  is 
passing,  —  has  passed.  There  must  be  a  policy  that 
is  constructive  as  well  as  destructive.  The  younger 
generation  sees  that  more  clearly  every  day.  She  — 
Anna  —  was  one  of  the  first  to  see  and  urge  it ;  hence 
she  fell  under  suspicion,  especially  when  she  refused  to 
carry  out  certain  orders." 

He  broke  off  for  a  moment,  as  if  in  slight  embarrass- 
ment. 

"I  think  I  understand,"  I  said.  "She  was  ordered 
to  'remove'  you,  sir,  and  she  refused?" 

"That  is  so;  at  least  she  protested,  even  then,  know- 
ing that  I  was  condemned  merely  as  a  member  of  the 
Romanoff  family.  Later,  when  we  met,  and  learned 
to  know  each  other,  she  found  that  I  was  no  enemy, 
but  a  stanch  friend  to  these  poor  peoples  of  Russia, 
striving  so  blindly,  so  desperately,  to  fling  off  the  yoke 
that  crushes  them !  Then  it  was  that,  with  the  noble 
courage  that  distinguishes  her  above  all  women  I  have 
ever  met,  she  refused  to  carry  out  the  orders  given  her; 
more  than  that,  she  has  twice  or  thrice  saved  my  life 
from  other  attempts  on  it.  I  have  long  been  a  member 
of  the  League,  though,  save  herself,  none  other  con- 
nected with  it  suspected  the  identity  of  a  certain  droshky- 
driver,  who  did  good  service  at  one  time  and  another." 

His  blue  eyes  twinkled  merrily  for  an  instant.  In 
his  way  his  character  was  as  complex  as  that  of  Anne 
herself,  —  cool,  clever,  courageous  to  a  degree,  but 


THE  GAME  BEGINS  249 

leavened  with  a  keen  sense  of  humor,  that  made  him 
thoroughly  enjoy  playing  the  role  of  "Ivan,"  even 
though  it  had  brought  him  to  his  present  position  as 
a  state  prisoner. 

"That  reminds  me,"  I  said.  "How  was  it  you  got 
caught  that  time,  when  she  and  her  father  escaped  ?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  had  to  choose,  either  to  fly  with  them,  and  thereby 
endanger  us  all  still  further,  or  allow  myself  to  be 
taken.  That  last  seemed  best,  and  I  think  —  I  am  sure 
—  I  was  right." 

"Did  you  know  the  soldiers  were  coming?" 

"No.  That,  by  the  way,  was  Selinski's  doing, — 
Cassavetti,  as  you  call  him." 

" Cassavetti ! "  I  exclaimed.  "Why,  he  was  dead 
weeks  before!" 

"True,  but  the  raid  was  in  consequence  of  informa- 
tion he  had  supplied  earlier.  He  was  a  double-dyed 
traitor.  The  papers  she  —  the  papers  that  were  found 
in  his  rooms  in  London  proved  that  amply.  He  had 
sold  information  to  the  Government,  and  had  planned 
that  the  Countess  Anna  should  be  captured  with  the 
others,  after  he  had  induced  her  to  return,  by  any 
means  in  his  power." 

"  But  —  but  —  he  could  n't  have  brought  her  back ! " 
I  exclaimed.  "For  she  only  left  London  the  day  after 
he  was  murdered,  and  she  was  at  Ostend  with  you  next 
day." 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

"  An  Englishman  I  saw  by  chance  in  Berlin,  who  had 
met  her  in  London,  and  who  knew  you  by  sight." 

He  sat  silent,  in  frowning  thought,  for  a  minute  or 
more,  and  then  said  slowly: 


250  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

"Selinski  had  arranged  everything  beforehand,  and 
his  assistants  carried  out  his  instructions,  though  he, 
himself,  was  dead.  But  all  that  belongs  to  the  past; 
we  have  to  deal  with  the  present  and  the  future !  You 
know  already  that  one  section  of  the  League  at  least  is, 
as  it  were,  reconstructed.  And  that  section  has  two 
definite  aims:  to  aid  the  cause  of  freedom,  but  also 
to  minimize  the  evils  that  must  ensue  in  the  struggle 
for  freedom.  We  cannot  hope  to  accomplish  much,  — 
there  are  so  few  of  us,  —  and  we  know  that  we  shall 
perish,  perhaps  before  we  have  accomplished  anything 
beyond  paving  the  way  for  those  that  come  after! 
There  is  a  terrible  time  in  store  for  Russia,  my  friend ! 
The  masses  are  ripe  for  revolt;  even  the  bureaucracy 
know  that  now,  and  they  try  to  gain  time  by  raising 
side  issues.  Therefore,  here  in  the  country  districts, 
they  stir  up  the  moujiks,  —  now  against  the  tax- 
gatherers,  more  often  against  the  Jews.  Murder  and 
rapine  follows;  then  the  troops  are  sent,  who  punish 
indiscriminately,  in  order  to  strike  terror  into  the 
people.  They  create  a  desolation  and  call  it  a  peace; 
you  have  seen  an  instance  yourself  on  your  way 
hither?" 

I  nodded,  remembering  that  devastated  village  we 
had  passed. 

"The  new  League  is  striving  to  preserve  peace  and 
to  save  the  innocent.  Here  in  the  country  its  members 
are  pledged  first  to  endeavor  to  improve  the  condition 
of  the  peasants,  to  teach  them  to  be  peaceable,  self- 
supporting,  and  self-respecting,  —  a  hard,  well-nigh 
hopeless  task,  since  in  that,  as  in  all  other  attempts  at 
reform,  one  has  to  work  in  defiance  of  the  Government." 

"Well,  from  what  I  've  heard  —  and  seen  —  during 


THE  GAME  BEGINS  251 

the  last  part  of  my  journey,  you  've  managed  to  do  a 
good  deal  in  that  way,  sir,"  I  suggested  respectfully. 

"  It  is  little  enough.  I  have  worked  under  sufferance, 
and,  as  it  were,  with  both  hands  tied,"  he  said  sadly. 
"If  I  had  been  any  other,  I  should  have  been  sent  to 
Siberia  long  ago.  It  is  the  mere  accident  of  birth  that 
has  saved  me  so  far.  But  as  to  the  League.  The 
present  plan  of  campaign  is,  roughly  speaking,  to  pre- 
vent riots  and  bloodshed.  If  news  is  gained  of  an  in- 
tended raid  on  an  isolated  country-house,  or,  what  is 
more  frequent,  on  a  Jews'  quarter,  a  warning  is  sent 
to  those  threatened,  and  if  possible  a  defence  arranged. 
Even  from  here  I  have  been  able  to  assist  a  little  in 
such  matters."  Again  his  eyes  gleamed  with  that  swift 
flash  of  mirth,  though  he  continued  his  grave  speech. 
"  More  than  one  catastrophe  has  been  averted  already, 
but  the  distances  are  so  great;  often  one  hears  only  of 
the  affairs  after  they  are  over. 

"That  will  be  part  of  your  work.  To  bring  news 
as  you  gather  it,  —  the  Pavloffs  will  help  you  there,  — 
and  to  accompany  me  when  I  choose  to  elude  my  jailers 
for  a  few  hours ;  perhaps  to  go  in  my  stead,  if  it  should 
be  impossible  for  me  to  get  away.  I  know  what  you 
can  do  when  it  comes  to  a  fight !  Well,  this  is  the 
'sport'  I  offered  you!  Do  you  care  to  go  in  for  it? 
Knot—" 

"You  know  I  care!"  I  exclaimed,  half  indignantly; 
and  on  that  we  gripped  hands. 

We  talked  for  a  good  while  longer.  He  gave  me  much 
information  that  I  need  not  set  down  here,  and  we  spoke 
often  of  Anne.  He  seemed  much  interested  in  my 
cousin,  Mary  Cayley,  —  naturally,  as  she  was  Anne's 
friend  and  hostess,  —  and  seemed  somehow  relieved 


252 

when  I  said  Mary  was  still  in  complete  ignorance  of 
all  that  had  happened  and  was  happening. 

"I  should  like  to  meet  your  charming  cousin;  but 
that  will  never  be,  I  fear ;  though  perhaps  —  who 
knows  ?  —  she  and  her  friend  may  yet  be  reunited," 
he  said,  rousing  himself  with  a  sigh  and  a  shiver. 

I  slept  late  when  I  did  get  to  bed,  and  was  awakened 
at  last  by  Nicolai,  who  had  breakfast  ready,  and  in- 
formed me  that  Mishka  was  in  readiness  to  escort  me 
to  his  father's  house. 

For  a  time  life  went  smoothly  enough.  I  was  out  and 
about  all  day  with  the  Pavloffs,  superintending  the 
trial  of  the  new  farming  machines  and  the  distribution 
of  the  implements.  During  the  first  day  or  two  Grod- 
witz  or  one  of  the  other  officers  always  accompanied 
me,  ostensibly  as  an  act  of  courtesy  towards  a  stranger, 
—  really,  as  I  well  understood,  to  watch  me;  and  there- 
fore I  was  fully  on  my  guard.  They  relaxed  their 
vigilance  all  the  sooner,  I  think,  because,  in  my  pre- 
tended ignorance  of  Russian,  I  blandly  endeavored  to 
press  them  into  service  as  interpreters,  which  they  found 
pretty  extensively  boring. 

They  treated  me  quite  en  bon  camarade;  though 
even  at  dinner,  and  when  we  were  playing  cards  at 
night,  one  or  other  of  them  was  continually  trying  to 
"draw"  me,  and  I  had  to  be  constantly  on  the  alert. 
I  had  no  further  public  audience  with  the  Duke,  though 
he  came  to  my  room  several  times  by  the  secret  stair. 

But  one  evening,  as  Mishka  and  I  rode  towards  the 
castle,  a  pebble  shot  from  a  clump  of  bushes  near  at 
hand,  and  struck  his  boot.  With  a  grunt  he  reined  up, 
and,  without  glancing  in  the  direction  whence  the 
missile  came,  dismounted  and  pretended  to  examine 


THE  GAME  BEGINS  253 

one  of  the  horse's  feet.  But  I  saw  a  fur  cap,  and  then 
a  face  peering  from  among  the  bushes  for  an  instant, 
and  recognized  Yossof  the  Jew.  Another  missile  fell 
at  Mishka's  feet,  —  a  small  packet  in  a  dark  wrapping. 
He  picked  it  up,  thrust  it  in  his  pocket,  swung  into  the 
saddle,  and  we  were  off  on  the  instant. 

All  he  condescended  to  say  was : 

"See  that  you  are  alone  in  the  hour  before  dinner. 
There  may  be  work  to  do." 

I  took  the  hint,  and  as  usual  dispensed  with  Nicolai's 
proffered  services.  Within  half  an  hour  the  bookcase 
swung  back  and  the  Duke  entered  quickly;  his  face 
was  sternly  exultant,  his  blue  eyes  sparkling. 

"Dine  well,  my  friend,  but  retire  early;  make  what 
excuse  you  like,  but  be  here  by  ten  at  the  latest.  You 
will  manage  that  well,  if  you  do  not  attend  the  recep- 
tion," he  exclaimed.  "We  ride  from  Zostrov  to-night; 
perhaps  forever !  The  great  game  has  begun  at  last,  — 
the  game  of  life  and  death!" 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

THE   FLIGHT   FROM   ZOSTROV 

AT  dinner  I  heard  that  the  Grand  Duke  was  indis- 
posed, and  was  dining  alone,  instead,  as  usual, 
with  the  Count  Stravensky,  Commandant  of  the  Castle 
—  by  courtesy  the  chief  member  of  his  suite,  but  hi 
reality  his  custodian  —  and  two  or  three  other  officers 
of  high  birth,  who,  with  their  wives,  formed  as  it  were, 
the  inner  circle  of  this  small  Court  in  the  wilderness. 
There  were  a  good  many  ladies  in  residence,  —  the 
great  castle  was  like  a  world  in  little,  —  but  I  scarcely 
saw  any  of  them,  as  I  preferred  to  keep  to  the  safe 
seclusion  of  the  officers'  mess,  when  I  was  not  in  my 
own  room ;  and  there  was,  of  course,  no  lack  of  bache- 
lors much  more  attractive  than  myself.  I  gathered 
from  Grodwitz  and  others  that  they  managed  to  en- 
liven their  exile  with  plenty  of  flirtations,  —  and 
squabbles. 

On  this  evening  the  Countess  Stravensky  was  hold- 
ing a  reception  in  her  apartments,  with  dancing  and 
music ;  and  all  my  usual  after-dinner  companions  were 
attending  it. 

"Better  come,  mon  ami,"  urged  Grodwitz.  "You 
are  not  invited  ?  Nonsense ;  I  tell  you  it  is  an  informal 
affair,  and  it  is  quite  time  you  were  presented  to  the 
Countess." 

"I  'd  feel  like  a  fish  out  of  water,"  I  protested.  "I  'm 
not  used  to  smart  society." 


"Smart !  Ma  foi,  there  is  not  much  smartness  about 
us  in  this  deadly  hole !  But  have  it  your  own  way. 
You  are  as  austere  as  our  Grand  Duke  himself ;  though 
you  have  not  his  excuse ! "  he  retorted,  laughing. 

"What  excuse?" 

"You  have  not  heard?"  he  asked  quizzically;  and 
rattled  out  a  version  of  the  gossip  that  was  rife  concern- 
ing Anne  and  Loris. 

"The  charitable  declare  that  there  is  a  morganatic 
marriage,"  he  asserted.  "They  are  probably  right;  for, 
I  give  you  my  word,  he  is  a  sentimental  fool,  our  good 
Loris.  Voila,  a  bit  of  treason  for  the  ears  of  your  friend 
Mishka,  hein?" 

"I  don't  quite  understand  you,  Colonel  Grodwitz," 
I  said  quietly,  looking  at  him  very  straight.  "If  you 
think  I  'm  in  the  habit  of  gossiping  with  Mishka 
Pavloff  or  any  other  servant  here,  you  're  very  much 
mistaken." 

"A  thousand  pardons,  my  dear  fellow;  I  was  merely 
joking,"  he  assured  me;  but  I  guessed  he  had  made 
one  more  attempt  to  "draw  "  me,  —  the  last. 

As  I  went  up  to  my  room  I  heard  the  haunting 
strains  of  a  Hungarian  dance  from  the  Stravensky  suite, 
situated  on  the  first  floor  in  the  left  wing  leading  from 
the  great  hall,  while  the  Duke's  apartments  were  in 
the  right  wing. 

Mishka  entered  immediately  after  I  had  locked  the 
door. 

"Get  your  money  and  anything  else  you  value  and 
can  carry  on  you,"  he  grunted.  "You  will  not  return 
here.  And  get  into  this." 

"This  "  was  the  uniform  of  a  cavalry  officer;  and  I 
must  say  I  looked  smart  in  it. 


256  THE  RED   SYMBOL 

Mishka  gathered  up  my  discarded  clothes,  and 
stowed  them  in  the  wardrobe. 

"Unlock  the  door;  Nicolai  will  come  presently  and 
will  think  you  are  still  below,"  he  said.  "And  follow 
me;  have  a  care,  pull  the  door  to  —  so." 

I  closed  the  secret  opening  and  went  down  the  nar- 
row stairway,  steep  almost  as  a  ladder,  By  the  dim 
light  of  the  small  lantern  Mishka  carried,  I  saw  the 
door  leading  to  the  Duke's  rooms.  We  did  not  enter 
there,  as  I  expected,  but  kept  on  till  I  guessed  we  must 
about  have  got  down  to  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  Then 
came  a  tremendously  long  and  narrow  passage,  damp 
and  musty  smelling;  at  the  end  of  it  a  flight  of  steep 
steps  leading  up  to  what  looked  like  a  solid  stone  wall. 
Mishka  motioned  me  to  wait,  extinguished  the  lantern, 
and  I  heard  him  feeling  about  in  the  pitch  darkness 
for  a  few  seconds.  Then,  with  scarcely  a  sound,  the 
masonry  swung  back,  and  I  saw  a  patch  of  dark  sky 
jewelled  with  stars,  and  felt  the  keen  night  wind  on  my 
face.  I  passed  out,  waited  in  silence  while  he  closed 
the  exit  again,  and  kept  beside  him  as  he  walked 
rapidly  away.  I  glanced  back  once,  and  saw  beyond 
the  great  wall,  the  castle  itself,  and  the  lights  gleaming 
from  many  windows,  while  from  the  further  wing  came 
still  the  sound  of  the  music. 

We  appeared  to  be  making  for  the  road  that  led  to 
Pavloff's  house,  where  I  guessed  we  might  be  going, 
but  I  asked  no  questions.  Mishka  would  speak  when 
necessary,  —  not  otherwise.  We  passed  through  a  belt 
of  pine  trees  on  to  the  rough  road;  and  there,  more 
heard  than  seen  in  the  darkness,  we  came  on  two  horse- 
men, each  with  a  led  horse. 

"That  you,  Wynn  ?"  said  a  low  voice  —  the  Duke's. 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  ZOSTROV        257 

"You  are  in  good  time.  This  is  your  horse ;  mount  and 
let  us  get  on." 

We  started  at  a  steady  pace,  not  by  the  road,  but 
across  country,  and  for  three  versts  or  more  we  rode  in 
absolute  silence,  the  Duke  and  I  in  advance,  Mishka 
and  his  father  close  behind. 

"Well,  I  told  you  I  could  get  away  when  I  wished 
to,"  said  Loris  at  last.  "And  this  time  I  shall  not  re- 
turn. You  are  a  good  disciplinarian,  my  friend  !  You 
have  come  without  one  question !  For  the  present  we 
are  bound  for  Zizcsky,  where  she  probably  awaits  us. 
There  may  be  trouble  there;  we  have  word  that  a 
pogrom  is  planned;  and  we  may  be  in  time  to  save 
some.  The  Jews  are  so  helpless.  They  have  lived  in 
fear,  and  under  sufferance  for  so  long,  that  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  rouse  them  even  to  defend  themselves,  —  out 
here,  anyhow.  In  Warsaw  and  Minsk,  and  the  larger 
towns  within  the  pale,  it  is  different,  and,  when  the  time 
comes,  some  among  them  at  least  will  make  a  good 
fight  of  it!" 

"We  may  find  that  the  alarm  was  false,  and  things 
are  quiet.  If  so,  —  good ;  we  ride  on  to  Count  Vassi- 
litzi's  house  some  versts  further.  He  is  Anna's  cousin 
and  she  will  be  there  to-morrow  if  she  is  not  in  Zizcsky ; 
and  there  we  shall  decide  on  our  movements. 

"I  said  that  the  game  begins,  —  and  this  is  it.  Per- 
haps to-morrow,  —  or  maybe  a  week  or  a  month  hence, 
for  the  train  is  laid  and  a  chance  spark  might  fire  it 
prematurely,  —  a  great  strike  will  commence.  All  has 
been  carefully  planned.  When  the  moment  comes,  the 
revolutionists  will  issue  a  manifesto  demanding  a  Con- 
stitution, and  that  will  be  the  signal  for  all  workers,  in 
every  city  and  town  of  importance,  to  go  on  strike;  in- 

17 


258  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

eluding  the  post  and  telegraph  operatives,  and  the  rail- 
way men.  It  will,  in  effect,  be  a  declaration  of  civil 
war ;  and  God  alone  knows  what  the  upshot  will  be ! 
There  will  be  much  fighting,  much  violence;  that  is 
inevitable.  The  people  are  sanguine  of  success,  for 
many  of  the  soldiers  and  sailors  are  with  them;  but 
they  do  not  realize  —  none  of  the  lower  classes  can 
realize  —  how  strong  a  weapon  the  iron  hand  of  the 
bureaucracy  wields,  in  the  army  and,  yes,  even  in  the 
remnant  of  the  navy.  Supposing  one-tenth  of  the  forces 
mutiny,  and  fight  on  the  side  of  the  people,  or  even 
stand  neutral,  —  and  I  do  not  think  we  can  count  on 
a  tenth,  —  there  will  still  be  nine-tenths  to  reckon  with. 
Our  part  will  be,  in  a  way,  that  of  guerillas.  We  go 
to  Warsaw,  the  headquarters  of  our  branch  of  the 
League.  We  shall  act  partly  as  Anna's  guards.  She 
does  not  know  that;  she  herself  is  utterly  reckless  of 
danger,  but  I  have  determined  to  protect  her  as  far  as 
possible,  as  you  also  are  determined,  eh,  mon  ami?  Also 
we  shall  give  aid  where  we  can,  endeavor  to  prevent  un- 
necessary violence,  and  save  those  who  are  unable  to 
defend  themselves.  That,  in  outline,  is  the  program; 
we  must  fill  in  the  details  from  one  moment  to  the  next, 
as  occasion  serves.  I  gather  my  little  band  as  I  go,"  he 
continued,  speaking,  like  a  true  son  of  the  saddle,  in  an 
even,  deliberate  voice  that  sounded  distinct  over  the 
monotonous  thud  of  the  horses'  hoofs.  "Yossof  has 
carried  word,  and  the  first  recruits  await  us  outside 
the  village  yonder.  They  are  all  picked  men,  members 
of  the  League ;  some  have  served  in  the  army,  and  —  " 
From  far  in  our  rear  came  a  dull,  sinister  roar,  fol- 
lowed by  a  kind  of  vibration  of  the  ground  under  our 
feet,  like  a  slight  shock  of  earthquake. 


"  My  God,  how  they  hate  me  !  "  /  heard  Loris  say 
softly."     Page  259 


THE  FLIGHT  FROM  ZOSTROV        259 

We  pulled  up,  all  four  of  us,  and,  turning  in  our  sad- 
dles, looked  back.  We  were  nearing  the  verge  of  the 
great  undulating  plain,  and  the  village  from  whence  in 
daylight  the  first  view  of  the  castle,  some  eight  versts 
distant,  was  obtained.  Even  now  the  long  range  of 
lights  from  the  left  wing  could  be  seen  distinctly,  like  a 
galaxy  of  stars  near  the  horizon,  but  from  the  right 
wing,  where  the  Duke's  apartments  were,  shone  a  faint 
reddish  glow,  which,  as  we  looked,  increased  rapidly, 
revealing  clouds  of  black  smoke. 

"An  explosion,"  grunted  Mishka.  "Some  one  has 
wrecked  the  state  apartments,  and  they  are  afire.  There 
will  be  a  big  blaze.  If  you  had  been  there,  —  well,  we 
are  all  well  out  of  it ! " 

He  rode  on  with  his  father ;  but  Loris  and  I  remained 
as  if  spellbound  for  a  minute  or  more,  staring  at  the 
grim  light  that  waxed  brighter  every  instant,  till  we 
could  actually  see  the  flames  darting  through  the  win- 
dow spaces  and  up  the  outer  walls.  The  place  was  al- 
ready a  raging  furnace. 

"My  God,  how  they  hate  me!"  I  heard  Loris  say 
softly.  "  Yet,  I  have  escaped  them  once  again ;  and  it 
is  well ;  it  could  not  be  better.  I  am  free  at  last ! " 


CHAPTER  XL 

A  STRICKEN  TOWN 

T  \  7E  rode  on,  avoiding  the  village,  which  remained 
V  V  dark  and  silent;  the  sleeping  peasants  had 
either  not  heard  or  not  heeded  the  sound  and  shock  of 
the  explosion. 

When  we  regained  the  road  on  the  further  side,  two 
mounted  men  awaited  us,  who,  after  exchanging  a  few 
low-spoken  words  with  the  Pavloffs,  fell  in  behind  us; 
and  later  another,  and  yet  another,  joined  us  in  the 
same  way. 

It  must  have  been  about  one  in  the  morning  when 
we  reached  the  village  half-way  between  Zizcsky  and 
Zostrov,  where  Mishka  and  I  had  got  the  last  change  of 
horses  on  our  journey  to  the  castle.  Here  again  all  was 
dark  and  quiet,  and  we  rode  round  instead  of  through 
the  place,  Loris  and  I,  with  the  Pavloffs,  halting  at  a 
little  distance,  near  a  small  farmhouse  which  I  remem- 
bered as  that  of  the  starosta,  while  our  four  recruits 
kept  on. 

Mishka  rode  up  and  kicked  at  the  outer  gate.  A 
light  gleamed  in  the  yard  and  the  starosta,  yawning  and 
blinking,  appeared,  holding  a  lantern  and  leading  a 
horse. 

"The  horses  are  ready?  That  is  well,  little  father," 
Mishka  said  approvingly. 


A  STRICKEN  TOWN  261 

"They  have  been  ready  since  midnight,  and  the  samo- 
var also;  you  will  drink  a  glass  of  tea,  Excellencies." 

As  he  led  out  the  other  three  horses  in  turn,  a  lad 
brought  us  steaming  glasses  of  tea,  and  I  was  glad  of 
mine,  anyhow ;  for  the  night,  though  still  and  clear,  was 
piercingly  cold. 

"The  horses  will  come  on,  with  four  more  recruits, 
after  a  couple  of  hours'  rest,"  said  Loris,  as  we  started 
again. 

We  kept  up  an  even  pace  of  about  ten  miles  an  hour 
till  we  had  traversed  about  half  the  remaining  distance, 
picking  up  more  silent  men  on  little  shaggy  country 
horses  till  we  rode  a  band  of  some  fifteen  strong. 

I  think  I  must  have  fallen  half  asleep  in  my 
saddle  when  I  was  startled  by  a  quick  exclamation  from 
Loris. 

"  Look !    What  is  yonder  ? " 

I  looked  and  saw  a  ruddy  glow  in  the  sky  to  north- 
ward, —  a  flickering  glow,  now  paling,  now  flashing 
up  vividly  and  showing  luminous  clouds  of  smoke,  — 
the  glow  of  a  great  fire. 

"That  is  over  Zizscky;  it  was  to-night  then,  and  we 
are  too  late !" 

We  checked  instinctively,  and  the  Pavloffs  ranged 
alongside.  We  four,  being  better  mounted,  were  well 
ahead,  and  the  others  came  straggling  in  our  rear. 

"They  were  to  defend  the  synagogue;  we  may  still 
be  in  time  to  help,"  said  Pavloff. 

"True,  we  four  must  push  on;  these  others  must 
follow  as  they  are  able,  and  tell  the  rest  as  they  meet 
them.  Give  Stepan  the  word,  Mishka,"  commanded 
the  Duke. 

Mishka  wheeled  his  horse  and  rode  back,  and  we 


262  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

pressed  forward,  increasing  the  pace  to  a  gallop. 
Within  an  hour  we  had  covered  the  twenty  versts  and 
were  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  Every  instant  that 
awful  glow  grew  brighter,  and  when  we  drew  near  we 
saw  that  half  the  houses  in  the  Jewish  quarter  were 
ablaze,  while  horrible  sounds  came  to  us,  —  the  noise 
of  a  devils'  orgy,  punctuated  irregularly  by  the  crackle 
of  rifle  shots. 

"They  are  holding  the  synagogue,"  Loris  said 
grimly.  "Otherwise  the  firing  would  be  over  by  this 
time." 

The  straggling  street  that  formed  this  end  of  the 
town  was  quiet  and  deserted,  save  for  a  few  scared 
women  and  children,  who  were  standing  in  the  road- 
way, and  who  scurried  back  to  their  houses  at  the  first 
sound  of  our  horses'  hoofs. 

"  Dismount,  and  turn  the  horses  loose ! "  Loris 
commanded.  "We  shall  find  them  later,  perhaps; 
if  not,  well,  we  shall  not!" 

We  hurried  along  on  foot,  and  a  minute  or  two  later 
we  entered  the  Jewish  quarter  and  were  in  the  midst  of  a 
hellish  scene,  lighted  luridly  by  the  glare  of  the  burning 
houses.  The  road  was  strewn  with  battered  corpses, 
some  lying  in  heaps;  and  burly  moujiks,  shrieking 
unsexed  viragoes,  and  brutal  soldiers,  maddened  with 
vodka,  delirious  with  the  lust  of  blood  and  pillage,  were 
sacking  the  houses  that  were  not  yet  ablaze,  destroying, 
in  insensate  fury,  what  they  were  unable  to  carry  off, 
fighting  like  demons  over  their  plunder.  Here  and  there 
were  groups  of  soldiers,  who,  though  they  were  not 
joining  in  the  work  of  destruction,  made  no  effort  to 
check  it,  but  looked  on  with  grim  jests.  I  saw  one 
present  his  rifle,  fire  haphazard  into  the  crowd,  and 


A  STRICKEN  TOWN  263 

yell  with  devilish  mirth  as  his  victim  fell,  and  the 
confusion  increased. 

His  laugh  was  cut  short,  for  Loris  knocked  the  rifle 
out  of  his  hand,  and  sternly  ordered  him  back  to  the 
barracks,  if  that  was  all  he  could  do  towards  restoring 
order. 

The  man  and  his  comrades  stared  stupidly.  They 
did  not  know  who  he  was,  but  his  uniform  and  com- 
manding presence  had  their  effect.  The  ruffians  stood 
at  attention,  saluted  and  asked  for  orders ! 

"Clear  the  streets,"  he  commanded  sternly. 

"Drive  the  people  back  to  their  quarter  and  keep 
them  there;  and  do  it  without  violence." 

He  stood  frowning,  revolver  in  hand,  and  watched 
them  move  off  with  sheepish  alacrity  and  begin  their 
task,  which  would  not  have  been  an  easy  one  if  the 
soldiers  had  been  under  discipline.  But  there  was  no 
discipline;  I  did  not  see  a  single  officer  in  the  streets 
that  night. 

"Are  you  wise?"  Mishka  growled  unceremoniously, 
as  we  moved  off.  I  saw  now  that  he  and  his  father  were 
also  in  uniform,  and  I  surmise  that  every  one  who  saw 
us  took  the  Grand  Duke  to  be  an  officer  in  high  com- 
mand, and  us  members  of  his  staff. 

We  had  our  revolvers  ready,  but  no  one  molested  us, 
and  as  we  made  our  way  towards  the  synagogue,  Loris 
more  than  once  repeated  his  commands  to  the  idle 
soldiers,  with  the  same  success. 

Barzinsky's  inn,  where  Mishka  and  I  had  slept  less 
than  a  fortnight  back,  was  utterly  wrecked,  though  the 
fire  had  not  yet  reached  it,  and  in  a  heap  in  the  roadway 
was  the  corpse  of  a  woman,  clad  in  a  dirty  bedgown. 
Her  wig  was  gone  and  her  skull  battered  in,  but  I 


264  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

knew  it  was  the  placid,  capable,  good-tempered  land- 
lady herself.  The  stumps  of  her  hands  lay  palm  down 
in  a  pool  of  blood,  —  all  the  fingers  gone.  She  had 
worn  rings,  poor  soul. 

But  that  was  by  no  means  the  most  sickening  sighJ  I 
saw  on  that  night  of  horror ! 

We  reached  the  square  where  the  synagogue  stood, 
and  found  it  packed  with  a  frenzied,  howling  mob, 
who  were  raging  like  wolves  round  the  gaunt  weather- 
worn stone  building.  There  was  no  more  firing,  either 
from  within  or  without. 

The  glass  of  the  two  small  windows  above  the  door- 
way —  whence,  as  I  learned  later,  the  defenders  had 
delivered  the  intermittent  fusilade  that  had  hitherto 
kept  the  mob  at  bay  —  was  smashed,  and  the  space 
filled  in  with  hastily  fixed  barricades.  The  great  door 
was  also  doubtless  strongly  barricaded,  since  it  still 
withstood  an  assault  with  axes  and  hammers  that  was 
in  progress. 

"They  shoot  no  more;  they  have  no  more  bullets," 
shrieked  a  virago  in  the  crowd.  "Burn  them  out,  the 
filthy  zhits." 

Others  took  up  the  cry. 

"Burn  them  out;  what  folly  to  batter  the  door! 
Bring  straw  and  wood;  burn  them  out!" 

"Keep  away,  —  work  round  to  the  left;  there  will 
be  space  soon,"  growled  Mishka,  clutching  me  back, 
as  I  began  to  force  my  way  forward.  "Do  as  I  say," 
he  added  authoritatively. 

I  guessed  he  knew  best,  so  I  obeyed,  and  edged 
round  on  the  outside  of  the  crowd. 

Something  whizzed  through  the  air,  and  fell  bang 
among  the  crowd,  exploding  with  a  deafening  report. 


A  STRICKEN  TOWN  265 

A  babel  of  yells  arose,  —  yells  of  terror  now ;  and 
the  mob  surged  back,  leaving  a  clear  space  in  which 
several  stricken  figures  were  writhing,  —  and  one  lay 
still. 

"Fly!"  shouted  a  stentorian  voice.  "They  are 
making  bombs  and  throwing  them;  fly  for  your  lives. 
Why  should  we  all  perish  ?" 

I  was  carried  back  in  the  rush,  and  found  myself 
breathless,  back  against  a  wall.  Three  figures  cleared 
themselves  from  the  ruck,  and  I  fought  my  way  to 
them. 

"Well  done,  Mishka,  —  for  it  was  thou  !"  exclaimed 
Loris.  "How  was  it  done?" 

"Pouf,  it  was  but  a  toy,"  grunted  Mishka.  "I 
brought  it  in  my  pocket,  —  on  chance ;  such  things 
are  useful  at  times.  If  it  had  been  a  real  bomb,  we 
should  all  have  entered  Heaven  —  or  hell  —  together." 

"Get  to  the  steps;  they  are  coming  back,"  cried 
Loris. 

He  was  right.  A  section  of  the  crowd  turned,  and 
made  an  ugly  rush,  only  to  halt  in  confusion  as  they 
found  themselves  confronted  by  levelled  revolvers, 
held  by  four  men  in  uniform. 

"Be  off,"  Loris  shouted.  There  was  no  anger  in  his 
voice;  he  spoke  as  sternly  and  dictatorially  as  one 
speaks  to  a  fractious  child.  "You  have  done  enough 
mischief  for  one  night,  —  and  the  punishment  is  still 
to  come.  Back,  I  say !  Go  home,  and  see  that  you 
do  no  more  evil." 

He  strode  towards  them,  and  they  gave  back  before 
him. 

"  Jesu !  It  is  the  archangel  Michel !  Ah,  but  we 
have  sinned,  indeed,"  a  woman  wailed  hysterically. 


266  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

The  cry  was  caught  up,  echoed  in  awestruck  murmurs; 
and  the  whole  lot  of  them  quickened  their  flight,  as  we 
marched  on  their  heels. 

"A  compliment  to  you,  my  Mishka,  —  you  and  your 
toy  bomb;  somewhat  more  like  Jove  and  his  thun- 
derbolts though,  eh?"  said  Loris,  and  I  saw  his  eyes 
gleam  for  a  moment  with  a  flash  of  the  quaint  humor 
that  cropped  up  in  him  at  the  most  unexpected  mo- 
ments. "It  was  a  good  thought,  for  it  achieved  much, 
at  very  little  cost.  But  these  poor  fools !  When  will 
they  learn  wisdom  ?" 

We  stood  still,  waiting  for  a  brief  space,  to  see  if 
the  mob  would  return.  But  the  noise  receded,  —  the 
worst  was  over;  though  the  baleful  glare  of  the  burning 
houses  waxed  ever  brighter,  revealing  all  the  horrors 
of  that  stricken  town. 

With  a  sigh  Loris  thrust  his  revolver  back  into  his 
belt,  —  none  of  us  had  fired  a  shot,  —  and  strode  back 
to  the  door  of  the  synagogue. 

From  within  we  could  hear,  now  that  the  din  had 
ceased,  the  wailing  of  frightened  children,  the  weeping 
of  women. 

Loris  drew  his  revolver  again  and  beat  on  the  door 
with  the  butt. 

"Open  within  there  !"  he  cried.  "All  is  safe,  and  we 
are  friends." 

"Who  are  you  ?  Give  the  name,  or  the  word,"  came 
the  answer,  in  a  woman's  voice;  a  voice  that  I  knew 
well. 

"Open,  Anna;  a  la  vie  et  a  la  mart!"  he  called. 

A  queer  dizziness  seized  me  as  I  listened.  She  was 
within,  then;  in  another  minute  I  should  meet  her. 
But  how  could  I  hope  that  she  would  have  a  word,  a 


A  STRICKEN  TOWN  267 

glance,  to  spare  for  me,  when  he  was  there.  I  could  not 
even  feel  jealous  of  him;  he  was  so  far  above  me  in 
every  way.  For  me  there  must  still  be  only  "the  page's 
part,"  while  he  was  the  king,  and  she  the  queen. 

There  were  lumbering  noises  within,  as  of  heavy 
goods  being  moved ;  but  at  last  the  door  swung  back, 
and  there  on  the  threshold,  with  her  hands  outstretched, 
stood  Anne  Pendennis. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

LOVE   OR   COMRADESHIP? 

"  T  KNEW  thou  wouldst  come,"  she  said  in  French, 

A     as  he  caught  those  outstretched  hands  in  his. 

She  looked  pale  and  worn,  as  was  natural,  —  but 
lovelier  than  ever,  as  she  stood,  a  shadowy  figure  in  her 
dark  gown  against  the  gloom  behind  her,  for  there  was 
no  light  within  the  synagogue.  The  lurid  glare  from 
without  shed  an  unearthly  radiance  on  her  white  face 
and  shining  hair. 

"I  am  not  alone,"  he  said.  "Maurice  Wynn  is  with 
me;  and  the  good  Mishka  and  his  father." 

She  glanced  at  me  doubtfully,  and  then  held  out  her 
hand,  flashing  at  me  the  ghost  of  her  old  arch  smile. 

"It  is  Maurice,  indeed;  how  the  beard  has  changed 
you,  —  and  the  uniform !  I  did  not  know  you,"  she 
said,  still  in  French.  "But  come;  there  is  still  much  to 
do,  and  we  must  be  gone  before  daylight.  How  did 
you  drive  them  off?  Will  they  make  another  attack?" 
she  asked,  turning  to  Loris. 

"I  think  not;  they  have  had  enough  for  one  time. 
You  must  thank  Mishka  here  for  putting  them  to  the 
rout,"  he  answered.  "Ah,  Stepan,  you  are  here  also,  as 
I  expected,"  he  added  to  a  young  man  of  about  my  own 
age,  whom  I  guessed  to  be  Anne's  cousin,  Count  Vas- 
silitzi,  from  the  strong  likeness  between  them,  though 
his  hair  was  much  darker  than  hers,  and  he  wore  a 
small  mustache. 


knew  thou  wouldst  come,"  she  said.     Page  268 


LOVE  OR  COMRADESHIP?  269 

What  passed  in  the  synagogue  both  before  and  after 
we  came,  I  only  learned  later;  for  Mishka  and  I  were 
posted  on  guard  at  the  entrance  of  the  square,  while 
Pavloff  went  off  to  seek  our  horses  and  intercept  the 
men  who  were  following  us.  If  he  met  them  in  time, 
they  would  make  a  detour  round  the  town  and  wait  for 
us  to  join  them  on  the  further  side. 

Our  sentry-go  business  proved  an  unnecessary  pre- 
caution, for  no  more  rioters  appeared;  the  excitement 
in  the  town  was  evidently  dying  out,  the  pogrom  was 
over,  —  for  the  time. 

Some  of  the  bolder  spirits  among  the  Jews  came  from 
the  synagogue,  exchanging  pious  ejaculations  of  thanks 
to  God  for  their  deliverance.  They  slunk  furtively  by 
us;  though  one  venerable-looking  old  man  paused  and 
invoked  what  sounded  like  a  blessing  on  us,  —  in 
Hebrew,  I  think. 

"You  can  keep  all  that  for  the  gracious  lady," 
growled  Mishka.  "It  is  to  her  you  owe  your  present 
deliverance." 

"It  is,  indeed,"  he  answered  in  Russian.  "The 
God  of  our  fathers  will  bless  her,  —  yea,  and  she  shall 
be  blessed.  And  He  will  bless  you,  Excellencies,  — 
you  and  your  seed  even  to  the  third  and  fourth  genera- 
tion, inasmuch  that  you  also  have  worked  His  will,  and 
have  delivered  His  children  out  of  the  hands  of  evil- 
doers." 

Mishka  scratched  his  head  and  looked  sheepish. 
This  blessing  seemed  to  embarrass  him  more  than  any 
amount  of  cursing  would  have  done. 

"They  are  harmless  folk,  these  Jews,"  he  grunted. 
"And  they  are  brave  in  their  way,  although  they  are 
forever  cringing.  See  —  the  old  man  goes  with  the 


f70  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

others  to  try  and  check  the  course  of  the  fires.  They 
are  like  ants  in  a  disturbed  ants'  nest.  They  begin  to 
repair  the  damage  while  it  is  yet  being  done.  To- 
morrow, perchance  even  to-day,  they  will  resume  their 
business,  and  will  truckle  to  those  who  set  out  to  out- 
rage and  murder  them  this  night !  That  is  what 
makes  the  Jew  unconquerable.  But  it  is  difficult  to 
teach  him  to  fight,  even  in  defence  of  his  women; 
though  we  are  doing  something  in  that  way  among 
the  younger  men.  They  must  have  done  well  to  hold 
out  so  long." 

"How  did  they  get  arms?"  I  asked. 

"They  have  not  many  so  far,  but  there  is  one  who 
comes  and  goes  among  them,  —  one  of  themselves,  — 
who  brings,  now  a  revolver  or  two,  now  a  handful  of 
cartridges,  now  a  rifle  taken  to  pieces;  always  at  the 
risk  of  his  life,  but  that  to  him  is  less  than  nothing." 

"Yossof!"  I  exclaimed. 

He  nodded,  but  said  no  more,  for  Count  Vassilitzi 
came  across  the  square  to  us. 

"All  is  quiet?"  he  asked.  "Good.  We  can  do  no 
more,  and  it  is  time  we  were  off.  You  are  Monsieur 
Wynn?  I  have  heard  of  you  from  my  cousin.  We 
must  be  friends,  Monsieur ! " 

He  held  out  his  hand  and  I  gripped  it  I  'd  have 
known  him  anywhere  for  Anne's  kinsman,  he  was  so 
like  her,  more  like  her  in  manner  even  than  in  looks; 
that  is,  like  her  when  she  was  in  a  frivolous  mood. 

There  was  quite  a  crowd  now  on  the  steps  of  the 
synagogue,  a  crowd  of  weeping  women  —  yes,  and 
weeping  men,  too,  —  who  pressed  around  Anne,  jost- 
ling each  other  in  the  attempt  to  kiss  her  hands,  or 
even  the  hem  of  her  gown. 


LOVE  OR  COMRADESHIP?  271 

She  looked  utterly  exhausted,  and  I  saw,  —  not  with- 
out a  queer  pang  at  heart,  —  that  Loris  had  his  arm 
round  her,  was  indeed,  rather  carrying,  than  merely 
supporting  her. 

"Let  us  through,  good  people,"  I  heard  him  say. 
"Remember  that  her  peril  is  as  great  as  yours,  even 
greater." 

As  he  spoke,  her  eyelids  drooped,  and  she  swayed 
back  on  to  his  shoulder.  He  swung  her  into  his  arms 
as  I  had  seen  him  do  once  before,  on  that  memorable 
summer  night  more  than  three  months  ago,  when  I 
thought  I  had  looked  my  last  on  her;  and,  as  the 
women  gave  way  before  him,  he  strode  off,  carrying  his 
precious  burden  as  easily  as  if  she  had  been  a  little 
child. 

We  followed  closely,  revolvers  in  hand ;  but  there  was 
no  need  to  use  them.  The  few  streets  we  traversed  on 
the  route  Loris  took  were  deserted;  and  though  the 
houses  on  either  side  were  smouldering  ruins,  we 
passed  but  few  corpses,  and  some  of  those  were 
Russians.  The  worst  of  the  carnage  had  been  in  the 
streets  further  from  the  synagogue. 

"You  came  just  in  time,"  remarked  Vassilitzi.  "We 
were  expecting  the  door  to  be  burst  in  or  burnt  every 
moment;  so  we  packed  the  women  and  children  up 
into  the  women's  gallery  again  —  we  'd  been  firing 
from  there  till  the  ammunition  was  gone  —  and  waited 
for  the  end.  Most  of  the  Jews  were  praying  hard; 
well,  I  suppose  they  think  their  prayers  were  effica- 
cious for  once." 

"Without  doubt,"  I  answered.  His  cynical  tone 
jarred  on  me,  somehow. 

"They  will   need   all   their  prayers,"   he  rejoined, 


272  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

shrugging  his  shoulders.  "To-night  is  but  a  foretaste 
of  what  they  have  to  expect.  But  perhaps  they  will  now 
take  the  hint,  and  learn  to  defend  themselves;  also 
they  will  not  have  the  soldiers  to  reckon  with,  if  they 
can  hold  out  a  little  longer." 

"How  's  that?"  I  asked,  because  he  seemed  to  ex- 
pect the  question;  not  because  I  was  particularly  in- 
terested: my  mind  was  concentrated  on  those  two  in 
front. 

"Why,  because  the  soldiers  will  be  wanted  else- 
where, as*  I  think  you  know  very  well,  mon  ami,"  he 
laughed.  "Well,  I  for  one  am  glad  this  little  affair  is 
over.  I  could  do  with  some  breakfast,  and  you  also, 
eh?  Anna  is  worn  out;  she  will  never  spare  herself. 
Ma  foi!  she  is  a  marvel;  I  say  that  always;  and  he 
is  another.  Now  if  I  tried  to  do  that  sort  of  thing"  — 
he  waved  his  hand  airily  towards  Loris,  tramping 
steadily  along.  "But  I  should  not  try;  she  is  no  light 
weight,  I  give  you  my  word !  Still  they  make  a  pretty 
picture,  —  eh  ?  What  it  is  to  be  a  giant ! " 

I  'd  have  liked  to  shake  him,  and  stop  his  irrespon- 
sible chatter,  which  seemed  out  of  place  at  the  moment. 
I  knew  he  would  n't  have  been  able  to  carry  Anne  half 
across  the  street;  he  was  a  little,  thin  fellow,  scarcely 
as  tall  as  Anne  herself. 

But  I  could  have  carried  her,  easily  as  Loris  was 
doing,  if  I  'd  had  the  chance  and  the  right. 

Yet  his  was  the  right;  I  knew  that  well,  for  I  had 
seen  the  look  in  her  eyes  as  she  greeted  him  just  now. 
How  could  I  have  been  such  a  conceited  fool  as  to 
imagine  she  loved  me,  even  for  a  moment!  What  I 
had  dared  to  hope  —  to  think  —  was  love,  was  nothing 
of  the  kind ;  merely  frank  camaraderie.  It  was  in  that 


LOVE  OR  COMRADESHIP?  273 

spirit  she  had  welcomed  me;  calling  me  "Maurice," 
as  she  had  done  during  the  last  week  or  two  of  her 
stay  at  Mary's ;  but  somehow  I  felt  that  though  we  had 
met  again  at  last,  she  was  immeasurably  removed  from 
me ;  and  the  thought  was  a  bitter  one !  She  loved  me 
in  a  way,  —  yes,  as  her  friend,  her  good  comrade. 
Well,  had  n't  I  told  myself  for  months  past  that  I  must 
be  content  with  that? 


18 


CHAPTER  XLII 

THE   DESERTED    HUNTING   LODGE 

OUR  own  horses  were  already  at  the  appointed 
place,  together  with  Pavloff  and  the  Duke's 
little  band  of  "recruits;"  sturdy  young  moujiks  these, 
as  I  saw  now  by  the  gray  light  of  dawn,  cleaner  and 
more  intelligent-looking  than  most  of  their  class. 

They  were  freshly  horsed,  for  they  had  taken  ad- 
vantage of  the  confusion  in  the  town  to  "  commandeer  " 
re-mounts,  —  as  they  say  in  South  Africa.  There  were 
horses  for  Anne,  and  her  cousin,  too.  Pavloff,  like  his 
son,  was  a  man  who  forgot  nothing. 

Anne  had  already  revived  from  the  faintness  that 
overcame  her  on  the  steps  of  the  synagogue.  I  had 
heard  her  talking  to  Loris,  as  we  came  along;  more 
than  once  she  declared  she  was  quite  able  to  walk,  but 
he  only  shook  his  head  and  strode  on. 

He  set  her  down  now,  and  seemed  to  be  demurring 
about  her  horse.  I  heard  her  laugh,  —  how  well  I 
knew  that  laugh !  —  though  I  had  already  swung  my- 
self into  the  saddle  and  edged  a  little  away. 

"It  is  not  the  first  time  I  have  had  to  ride  thus. 
Look  you,  Maurice,  it  goes  well  enough,  does  it  not?" 
she  said,  riding  towards  me. 

I  had  to  look  round  at  that. 

She  was  mounted  astride,  as  I  've  seen  girls  ride  in 
the  Western  States.  She  had  slipped  off  the  skirt  of 


THE  DESERTED  HUNTING   LODGE   275 

her  dark  riding-habit,  and  flung  it  over  her  right  arm; 
and  was  sitting  square  in  her  saddle,  her  long  coat 
reaching  to  the  tops  of  her  high  riding-boots. 

I  felt  a  lump  come  to  my  throat  as  I  looked  at  the 
gallant,  graceful  figure,  at  the  small  proud  head  with 
its  wealth  of  bright  hair  gleaming  under  the  little 
astrachan  cap  that  she  wore,  at  the  white  face  with  its 
brave  smile. 

I  knew  well  that  she  was  all  but  dead-beat,  and  that 
she  only  laughed  lest  she  might  weep,  or  faint  again. 

"It  goes  well  indeed,  capitaine,"  I  answered,  with  a 
military  salute. 

Pavloff ,  still  on  foot,  came  forward  and  stood  beside 
her,  speaking  in  a  low  growl;  he  was  an  elder  edition 
of  his  son  Mishka. 

She  listened,  looking  down  at  him  gravely  and  kindly. 
I  could  not  take  my  eyes  from  her  face,  so  dear  and 
familiar,  and  yet  in  one  way  so  changed.  I  guessed 
wherein  the  change  lay.  When  I  had  known  her  before 
she  had  only  been  playing  a  part,  posing  as  a  lovely, 
light-hearted,  capriciously  coquettish  girl,  without  a 
real  care  in  the  world.  But  now  I  saw  her  without  the 
mask,  knew  her  for  what  she  was,  the  woman  who  was 
devoting  her  youth,  her  beauty,  her  brilliant  talents,  to 
a  great  cause,  —  a  well-nigh  hopeless  one,  —  and  I 
loved  her  more  than  ever,  with  a  passionate  fervor 
that,  I  honestly  declare,  had  no  taint  of  selfishness  in  it. 
From  that  moment  I  told  myself  that  it  was  enough  for 
me  merely  to  be  near  her,  to  serve  her,  shield  her  per- 
haps, and  count,  as  a  rich  reward,  every  chance  word  or 
thought  or  smile  she  might  bestow  on  me. 

"Yes,  it  is  well;  your  duty  lies  there,"  I  heard  her 
say.  "God  be  with  you,  old  friend;  and  farewell !" 


276  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

She  slipped  her  right  hand  out  of  its  loose  leather 
glove,  and  held  it  out  to  him. 

When  I  first  saw  her  at  Chelsea,  I  had  decided  that 
hers  were  the  most  beautiful  hands  in  the  world,  not 
small,  but  exquisitely  shaped,  —  hands  that,  in  their 
graceful  movements,  somehow  seemed  to  convey  a 
subtle  idea  of  power  and  versatility.  She  never  wore 
rings.  I  remembered  how  Mary  once  remarked  on 
this  peculiarity,  and  Anne  had  answered  that  she  did 
not  care  for  them. 

"  But  you  've  quite  a  lot  in  your  jewel  case,  lovely  old 
ones;  you  ought  to  wear  them,  Anne,"  Mary  pro- 
tested, and  Anne's  eyes  had  darkened  as  they  always 
did  in  moments  of  emotion. 

"They  were  my  mother's.  Father  gave  them  me 
years  ago,  and  I  always  carry  them  about  with  me ;  but 
I  never  wear  them,"  she  said  quietly. 

The  remembrance  of  this  little  episode  flashed  through 
my  mind  as  I  saw  her  hold  out  her  ringless  hand,  — 
begrimed  now  with  dirt  and  smoke,  with  a  pur- 
ple mark  like  a  bruise  between  the  thumb  and  first 
finger,  that  showed  me  she  had  been  one  of  the  firing 
party. 

Pavloff  bared  his  shaggy  head,  and  bent  over  the 
hand  as  if  it  had  been  that  of  an  empress ;  then  moved 
away  and  went  plump  on  his  knees  before  Loris. 

"Where  is  he  going?"  I  asked  Anne,  ranging  my 
horse  alongside. 

"Back  to  his  work,  like  the  good  man  he  is,"  she  said, 
her  eyes  fixed  on  Loris,  who  had  raised  the  old  steward 
and  was  speaking  to  him  rapidly  and  affectionately. 
"He  came  thus  far  lest  we  should  have  need  of  him; 
perhaps  also  because  he  would  say  farewell  to  me, — 


THE  DESERTED  HUNTING  LODGE   277 

since  we  shall  not  meet  again.  But  now  he  will  return 
and  continue  his  duty  at  Zostrov  as  long  as  he  is  per- 
mitted to  do  so.  That  may  not  be  long,  —  but  still  his 
post  is  there." 

"They  will  murder  him,  as  some  of  them  tried  to 
murder  the  Duke  last  night,"  I  said.  "You  have  heard 
of  the  explosion?" 

She  nodded,  but  made  no  comment,  and,  as  Pavloff 
mounted  and  rode  off  alone,  Loris  also  mounted  and 
joined  us  with  Vassilitzi,  and  the  four  of  us  started  at 
a  hand-gallop,  a  little  ahead  of  the  others.  Loris  rode 
on  Anne's  right  hand,  I  on  her  left,  and  I  noticed,  as  I 
glanced  at  her  from  time  to  time,  how  weary  and  wist- 
ful her  face  was,  when  the  transient  smile  had  van- 
ished ;  how  wide  and  sombre  the  eyes  that,  as  I  knew 
of  old,  changed  with  every  mood,  so  that  one  could 
never  determine  their  color ;  at  one  moment  a  sparkling 
hazel,  at  another  —  as  now  —  dark  and  mysterious  as 
the  sky  on  a  starless  night. 

The  last  part  of  our  route  lay  through  thick  woods, 
where  the  cold  light  of  the  dawn  barely  penetrated  as 
yet,  though  the  foliage  was  thin  overhead,  and  the 
autumn  leaves  made  a  soft  carpet  on  which  our  horses' 
hoofs  fell  almost  without  a  sound. 

We  seemed  to  move  like  a  troop  of  shadows  through 
that  ghostly  twilight.  One  could  imagine  it  an  en- 
chanted forest,  like  those  of  our  nursery  tales,  with 
evil  things  stirring  in  the  brakes  all  about  us,  and  watch- 
ing us  unseen.  Once  there  came  a  long-drawn  wail  from 
near  at  hand ;  and  a  big  wolf,  homing  to  his  lair  at  the 
dawning,  trotted  across  the  track  just  ahead,  and  bared 
his  fangs  in  a  snarl  before  he  vanished.  A  few  minutes 
later  another  sound  rang  weirdly  above  the  stealthy 


278  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

whispers  of  the  forest,  —  the  scream  of  some  creature 
in  mortal  fear  and  pain. 

"That  is  a  horse  that  the  wolves  are  after — or 
they  've  got  him ! "  exclaimed  Vassilitzi.  He  and  I 
were  leading  now,  for  the  track  was  only  wide  enough 
for  two  to  ride  abreast.  We  quickened  our  pace, 
though  we  were  going  at  a  smart  trot,  and  as  a  second 
scream  reached  our  ears,  ending  abruptly  in  a  queer 
gurgle,  we  saw  in  front  a  shapeless  heap,  from  which 
two  shadowy  forms  started  up  growling,  but  turned 
tail  and  vanished,  as  the  other  wolf  had  done,  as  we 
galloped  towards  them. 

The  fallen  horse  was  a  shaggy  country  nag,  with  a 
rope  bridle  and  no  saddle.  The  wolves  had  fastened 
on  his  throat,  but  he  was  not  yet  dead,  and  as  I  jumped 
down  and  stood  over  him  he  made  a  last  convulsive 
effort  to  rise,  glaring  at  me  piteously  with  his  blood- 
flecked  eyes.  We  saw  then  that  his  fore-leg  was  broken, 
and  I  decided  the  best  thing  to  do  was  to  put  the  beast 
out  of  his  misery.  So  I  did  it  right  then  with  a  shot  in 
his  ear. 

"He  has  been  ridden  hard;  he  was  just  about  spent 
when  he  stumbled  on  that  fallen  trunk  and  fell,  and 
that  was  some  time  since,"  said  Vassilitzi,  looking  crit- 
ically at  the  quivering,  sweat-drenched  carcase.  "  Now, 
what  does  it  mean  ?  If  the  wolves  had  chased  him,  — 
and  they  are  not  so  bold  now  as  in  the  winter,  —  they 
would  have  had  him  down  before,  and  his  rider  too; 
but  they  had  only  just  found  him." 

He  stared  ahead  and  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  the 
air  of  a  man  who  dismisses  an  unimportant  question  to 
which  he  cannot  find  a  ready  answer. 

The  others  caught  up  with  us  as  I  got  into  my  saddle 


THE  DESERTED  HUNTING  LODGE   279 

again,  and  we  made  no  delay,  as  the  incident  was  not 
of  sufficient  moment. 

We  passed  one  or  two  huts,  that  appeared  to  be  un- 
inhabited, and  came  at  last  to  the  open,  or  rather  to  a 
space  of  a  few  hundred  acres,  ringed  round  by  the  for- 
est, and  saw  in  the  centre  of  the  clearing  a  low,  ramb- 
ling old  house  of  stone,  enclosed  with  a  high  wall,  and 
near  the  tall  gateway  a  few  scattered  wooden  huts. 

Some  fowls  and  pigs  were  straying  about,  and  a  few 
dejected  looking  cows  and  a  couple  of  horses  were 
grazing  near  at  hand ;  but  there  was  no  sign  of  human 
life. 

"Diable!  Where  are  they  all?"  exclaimed  Vassi- 
litzi,  frowning  and  biting  his  mustache. 

"  What  place  is  this  ? "  I  asked  him. 

"  Mine.  It  was  a  hunting  lodge  once ;  now  it  repre- 
sents all  my  —  our  —  possessions.  But  where  are  the 
people?" 

He  rode  to  the  nearest  hut,  kicked  open  the  crazy 
door,  and  shouted  imperatively;  but  there  was  no  re- 
ply. The  whole  place  was  deserted. 

Thence  to  the  gateway,  with  its  solid  oak  doors.  He 
jumped  down  and  tried  them,  petulantly  muttering 
what  certainly  sounded  like  a  string  of  oaths.  But  they 
were  locked  and  barred. 

The  others  rode  up,  Anne  and  Loris  first,  the  men 
straggling  after. 

Anne  was  swaying  in  her  saddle;  her  face  was  ashy 
pale.  I  think  she  would  have  fallen  but  that  Loris 
steadied  her  with  his  arm. 

"What  now?"  she  gasped.  "There  has  been  no 
fighting;"  she  glanced  wildly  around,  "and  yet  — 
where  are  they  all  ?  We  left  twenty  to  guard  her,  within, 


280  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

besides  these  others."  She  stretched  her  hand  towards 
the  empty  huts. 

"Give  the  signal!"  she  continued,  turning  to  Loris. 
"  If  there  are  any  within  they  will  answer  that ! " 

He  drew  his  revolver  and  fired  five  shots  in  the  air; 
while  we  all  sat,  staring  at  him,  and  wondering  what 
would  happen  next ;  at  least  that  was  what  I  was  won- 
dering. The  silence  was  so  uncanny ! 


CHAPTER  XLIH 

THE   WOMAN   FROM   SIBERIA 

AT   last  there  was  a  movement  within.     Halting 
footsteps   approached   the  gates,   and   a   man's 
voice,  hoarse  and  weak,  demanded:  "Who  is  there?'* 

"It  is  Yossof,"  Anne  exclaimed.  "How  comes  he 
here  alone?  Where  is  my  mother,  Yossof?" 

I  started  as  I  heard  that.  Her  mother  was  alive,  then, 
though  Anne  had  said  she  could  not  remember  her, 
and  Treherne  had  told  me  she  died  soon  after  her 
arrest,  more  than  twenty  years  back. 

"She  is  within  and  safe;  Natalya  is  with  her,"  came 
Yossof 's  quavering  voice,  as  he  labored  to  unbar  the 
gates.  We  heard  him  gasping  and  groaning  as  if  the 
task  was  beyond  his  strength,  but  he  managed  it  at  last. 
The  great  doors  swung  open,  and  he  stood  leaning 
against  one  of  them.  In  the  chill  morning  light  his 
face  looked  gray  and  drawn  like  that  of  a  corpse,  just 
as  it  had  looked  that  first  time  I  saw  him  on  the  stair- 
case at  Westminster.  On  the  weed-grown  path  be- 
side him  lay  a  revolver,  as  if  he  had  dropped  it  out  of 
his  hand  when  he  started  to  unbar  the  gates. 

"What  has  happened,  Yossof?"  Anne  asked  ur- 
gently. 

"Nothing;  all  is  well,  Excellency,"  he  answered. 
"I  rode  and  gave  the  word  as  the  order  was,  and  when 
I  reached  the  town  the  madness  had  begun,  so  I  did 


282  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

not  enter,  but  came  on  hither.  My  horse  was  spent, 
and  I  found  another,  but  he  fell  and  I  left  him  and  came 
on  foot.  I  found  none  here  save  the  Countess  and 
Natalya;  the  others  had  fled,  fearing  an  attack.  So  I 
closed  the  gates  and  kept  guard." 

"God  reward  thee,  friend;  thou  hast  done  well, 
indeed,"  Anne  said,  and  moved  on  to  the  house. 

I  felt  a  twitch  on  my  sleeve,  and  Mishka  muttered 
in  my  ear. 

"Count  our  men  in  and  then  see  the  gate  barred. 
We  shall  be  safer  so.  I  will  look  after  Yossof,  and  find 
also  what  food  is  in  the  house  for  us  all.  We  need  it 
sorely !" 

So  I  sat  in  my  saddle  beside  the  gateway,  waiting 
till  the  last  of  our  laggards  had  come  in.  I  saw  Loris 
lift  Anne  from  her  horse  and  support  her  up  the  short 
flight  of  wide  stone  steps  that  led  up  to  the  house. 

An  elderly  peasant  woman  hurried  out  to  meet  them, 
and  behind  her  appeared  a  weird  unearthly  figure;  a 
tall  woman,  wearing  a  kind  of  loose  white  dressing- 
gown.  Her  gray  hair  was  flying  dishevelled  about  her 
shoulders;  and  her  face,  even  seen  from  a  distance  as 
I  saw  it  now,  appeared  like  some  horrible  travesty  of 
humanity.  The  wide  open  eyes  were  sightless,  covered 
with  a  white  film;  the  nose  was  flattened  and  dis- 
torted, the  lips  contracted,  while  the  other  features, 
forehead  and  cheeks  and  chin,  were  like  a  livid  lined 
mask,  grotesquely  seamed  and  scarred. 

The  "Thing"  —  I  could  not  think  of  it  as  a  human 
being  at  that  moment  —  flung  out  its  hands,  and 
shrieked  in  French,  and  in  a  voice  that,  though  shrill 
with  anguish,  was  piercingly  sweet  and  powerful. 

"They  have  come,  —  but  they  shall  never  take  me 


THE  WOMAN  FROM  SIBERIA         283 

again ;  at  least  they  shall  not  take  me  alive.  Anthony 
—  Anthony  !  Where  are  you,  my  husband  ?  Save  me! 
do  not  let  them  take  me !" 

Anne  hurried  towards  her,  but  with  a  scream  she 
turned  and  sped  back  into  the  house,  and  some  one 
pushed  the  door  to,  so  I  saw  no  more;  but  for  some 
minutes  those  dreadful  screams  continued.  They 
sounded  almost  like  the  shrieks  of  Yossof's  horse  when 
the  wolves  were  on  him. 

The  men  had  all  ridden  in  and  were  muttering  to 
each  other,  crossing  themselves  in  superstitious  fear. 
They  seemed  scared  to  approach  the  house;  and  I  be- 
lieve they  'd  have  stampeded  back  into  the  forest  if  I 
had  n't  slammed  the  gates  and  barred  them  again. 

"It  is  not  good  to  be  here,  Excellency,"  stammered 
one.  "This  place  is  haunted  with  ghosts  and -devils." 

"Nonsense,"  I  answered  roughly.  "Brave  men  you 
are  indeed  to  be  frightened  of  a  poor  mad  lady  who 
has  suffered  so  cruelly ! " 

By  judicious  bullying  I  got  them  calmed  down  a  bit ; 
a  Russian  peasant  is  a  difficult  person  to  manage  when 
he  's  in  a  superstitious  funk.  Mishka  joined  me  pres- 
ently, and  we  marched  our  men  round  to  the  back  of 
the  house,  and  set  them  foraging  for  breakfast.  For- 
tunately there  was  plenty  of  food;  the  place  seemed 
provisioned  for  a  siege.  I  stood  about,  watching  and 
directing  them.  I  did  n't  feel  in  the  least  hungry  my- 
self, only  rather  dazed. 

A  hand  fell  on  my  shoulder,  and  I  found  Loris  beside 
me. 

"Come  and  eat  and  sleep,  my  friend;  we  have  done 
well  so  far.  Mishka  will  take  charge  here." 

He  looked  almost  as  fresh  and  alert  after  that  tre- 


284  THE  RED   SYMBOL 

mendous  night  we  'd  had,  as  if  he  'd  just  come  out  of 
his  bedroom  at  Zostrov,  when  we  joined  him  in  a  big 
dilapidated  dining-room,  where  he  'd  planked  some 
food  and  a  couple  of  bottles  of  wine  on  the  great  oaken 
table,  though  I  was  as  big  a  scarecrow  as  Vassilitzi, 
who  was  as  used  up  as  if  he  had  n't  been  to  bed  for 
a  week. 

He  had  dropped  his  flippant  manner,  and  was  as 
cross  and  irritable  as  an  over-tired  woman. 

"Think  of  these  canaille  that  we  feed  and  clothe, 
and  risk  our  lives  for !"  he  exclaimed  half  hysterically. 
"We  left  twenty  of  them  here,  when  Anna  and  I  started 
for  Zizscky  yesterday,  —  twenty  armed  men.  And  yet 
at  the  first  rumor  of  danger  they  sneak  away  to  the 
woods,  and  leave  their  charge,  that  they  had  sworn  to 
defend,  so  that  we  trusted  them.  And  it  is  these  swine, 
and  others  like  them,  —  dastards  all !  —  who  clamor 
for  what  they  call  freedom,  and  think  if  they  get  their 
vote  and  their  Duma,  all  will  go  well.  Why  should  we 
throw  our  lives  away  for  such  as  these?  We  are  all 
fools  together,  you  and  I  and  Anna.  And  you,"  he 
turned  towards  me,  "you  are  the  biggest  fool  of  us  all, 
for  you  have  not  even  the  excuse  that  is  ours !  You 
have  no  stake  in  this  accursed  country  and  its  people. 
Nom  du  (liable,  why  do  you  act  as  if  you  had?  You 
are—" 

"Calm  yourself,  Stepan,"  Loris  interposed.  "Go 
and  sleep ;  we  all  need  that.  And  as  for  your  cowardly 
servants,  forget  all  about  them.  They  are  worth  no 
more.  Go,  as  I  bid  you  !" 

His  level  voice,  his  authoritative  manner,  had  their 
affect,  and  Vassilitzi  lurched  away.  He  was  n't  really 
drunk;  but  when  a  man  is  famished  and  dead-tired, 


THE  WOMAN  FROM  SIBERIA         285 

two  or  three  glasses  of  wine  will  have  an  immense  effect 
on  him ;  though  one  glass  will  serve  to  pull  him  together, 
as  it  did  me,  to  a  certain  extent  anyhow.  I  was  able  to 
ask  Loris  about  that  horrible  apparition  I  had  seen. 

"  Yes,  she  is  the  Countess  Anna  Pendennis,  or  all 
that  remains  of  her,"  he  answered  sternly  and  sadly. 
"You  have  only  seen  her  at  a  distance,  but  that  was 
sufficient  to  show  you  what  Siberia  may  mean  to  a 
delicately  nurtured  woman.  If  she  had  only  died  —  as 
was  given  out !  But  she  did  not  die.  She  worked  as  a 
slave,  —  in  the  prison  in  winter,  in  the  fields  in  summer. 
She  had  frost-bite;  it  destroyed  her  sight,  her  face;  it 
made  her  a  horror  to  look  upon.  Yet  still  she  did  not 
die,  perhaps  because  her  mind  was  gone,  and  strength 
lingers  in  mad  creatures  ! 

"Yossof  told  all  this.  He  was  her  fellow  prisoner, 
and  he  made  his  escape  two  —  no,  three  years  or  more, 
since.  He  made  his  way  here,  and  Anna  was  good  to 
him;  as  she  is  good  to  every  creature  in  adversity. 
Until  then  she  had  always  believed  that  her  mother 
died  at  her  birth;  but  when  she  learned  the  truth,  she 
would  have  moved  Heaven  and  earth  to  deliver  her. 
It  was  accomplished  at  last;  the  Tzar  was  induced  to 
sign  an  order  for  the  release  of  this  mad  and  maimed 
woman.  Just  when  all  hope  seemed  lost  the  deliver- 
ance came ;  and  the  wreck  that  remains  of  the  Countess 
Anna  Pendennis  was  brought  here,  —  less  than  three 
months  ago ;  and  — " 

He  broke  off  as  the  woman  servant  Yossof  had  spoken 
of  as  Natalya  hurried  into  the  room  and  unceremoni- 
ously beckoned  him  out.  He  rose  at  once  and  followed 
her,  but  turned  at  the  door. 

"Get  some  sleep  while  you  can,"  he  said,  nodding 


286  THE  RED   SYMBOL 

towards  a  great  couch  covered  with  a  bear-skin  rug. 
"None  will  disturb  you  here  for  a  few  hours;  and  we 
shall  have  either  to  fight  or  to  travel  again  ere  long." 

I  sat  for  a  minute  or  two,  trying  to  think  over  the 
long  tragedy  that  he  had  summed  up  in  so  few  words, 
and  wondering  where  Anthony  Pendennis  was.  Surely 
he  should  have  been  here  with  his  wife  and  daughter; 
and  yet  no  one  had  mentioned  him,  and  I  had  had  no 
opportunity  of  asking  about  him,  —  had,  in  fact,  for- 
gotten his  very  existence  till  these  last  few  minutes. 

But  consecutive  thought  was  impossible,  and  I  gave 
up  the  attempt,  as  I  stumbled  to  the  couch  and  fell  fast 
asleep. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

AT   VASSILITZl's 

INTO  my  dreams  came  voices  that  I  knew,  speaking 
in  French,  in  low  tones  which  yet  reached  my  ears 
distinctly. 

"I  think  we  should  tell  him;  it  is  not  right,  or  just, 
to  keep  him  in  ignorance." 

"No,  —  no,  —  we  must  not  tell  him;  we  must  not !" 
Anne  said  softly,  but  vehemently.  "  We  shall  need  him 
so  sorely,  —  there  are  so  very  few  whom  we  can  really 
trust.  Besides,  why  should  we  tell  him?  It  would 
break  his  heart !  For  remember,  we  do  not  know." 

They  were  not  dream  voices,  but  real  ones,  and  as  I 
found  that  out,  I  felt  I  'd  better  let  the  speakers,  — 
Anne  and  Loris,  —  know  I  was  awake;  for  I'd  no  wish 
to  overhear  what  they  were  saying,  especially  as  I  had  a 
queer  intuition  that  they  were  talking  of  me.  So  I  sat  up 
under  the  fur  rug  some  one  had  thrown  over  me,  and 
began  to  stammer  out  an  apology  in  English. 

The  room  was  almost  dark,  and  through  the  window, 
with  its  heavy  stone  framr,  I  saw  the  last  glow  of  a 
stormy  sunset.  Anne  and  Loris  stood  there,  looking  out, 
and  as  I  moved  and  spoke  she  broke  off  her  sentence 
and  came  towards  me. 

"You  have  slept  long,  Maurice;  that  is  well,"  she 
said,  also  in  English,  with  the  pretty,  deliberate  accent 
I  had  always  thought  so  charming.  "There  is  no  need 
for  apologies ;  we  should  have  roused  you  if  necessary, 


288  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

but  all  is  quiet  so  far.  Will  you  come  to  my  boudoir 
presently  ?  I  will  give  you  tea  there.  We  have  scarcely 
had  one  word  together  as  yet,  —  and  there  is  so  much 
to  say !  I  will  send  lights  now ;  some  of  the  servants 
have  returned  and  will  get  you  all  you  need." 

Loris  opened  the  door  for  her,  and  crossed  back  to 
his  former  post  by  the  window,  while  I  scrambled  up, 
as  a  scared-looking,  shamefaced  man  servant  entered 
with  a  lamp,  and  slunk  out  again. 

"Those  wretches!  They  deserve  the  knout!" 
Loris  said  grimly,  when  we  were  alone.  "They  were 
all  well  armed,  and  yet,  at  the  first  hint  of  danger,  they 
took  themselves  into  hiding,  leaving  those  two  women 
defenceless  here.  Well,  they  will  have  to  take  care  of 
themselves  in  future,  the  curs !  The  countess  is  dead," 
he  added  abruptly. 

"Dead!"   I  exclaimed. 

"Yes.  Always,  even  in  her  madness,  she  remembered 
all  she  had  suffered,  and  her  terror  of  being  arrested 
again  killed  her.  It  is  God's  mercy  for  her  that  she  is 
at  peace,  —  and  for  us,  too,  for  we  could  not  have  taken 
her  with  us,  nor  have  left  her  in  charge  of  Natalya 
and  these  hounds,  as  we  had  intended.  We  shall 
bury  her  out  in  the  courtyard  yonder.  It  is  the  only 
way,  and  later,  if  nothing  prevents,  we  start  for  the 
railroad." 

"  Where  is  Pendennis  ?  "  I  asked.    "  Is  he  not  here  ? " 

"No;  he  may  join  us  later;  I  cannot  say,"  he 
answered,  staring  out  of  the  window.  I  felt  that  he  was 
embarrassed  in  some  way;  that  there  was  something 
he  wished  to  say,  but  hesitated  at  saying  it.  That 
was  n't  a  bit  like  him,  for  he  had  always  been  the 
personification  of  frankness. 


AT  VASSILITZI'S  289 

"I  wonder  if  there's  a  bath  to  be  had  in  the  house," 
I  said  inanely,  looking  at  my  grimy  hands. 

"Yes,  in  Vassilitzi's  dressing-room;  the  servant 
will  take  you  up,"  he  answered  abstractedly,  and  as  I 
moved  towards  the  wide  old-fashioned  bell-pull  by  the 
stove,  he  turned  and  strode  after  me. 

"Wait  one  moment!"  he  said  hurriedly.  "Are  you 
still  determined  to  go  through  with  us?  There  is  still 
time  to  turn  back,  or  rather  to  go  back  to  England. 
It  would  not  be  easy  perhaps,  but  it  would  be  quite 
possible  for  you  to  get  through,  via  Warsaw  and  Alex- 
androvo,  if  you  go  at  once." 

"Why  do  you  ask  me  that?"  I  demanded,  look- 
ing at  him  very  straight.  His  blue  eyes  were  more 
troubled  than  I  had  ever  seen  them.  "Do  you  doubt 
me?" 

"No,  before  God  I  trust  you  as  I  trust  none  other 
in  the  world  but  Mishka  and  his  father  !  But  you  are  a 
stranger,  a  foreigner;  why  should  you  throw  your  life 
away  for  us?" 

"I  have  told  you  why,  before.  Because  I  only  value 
my  life  so  far  as  it  may  be  of  service  to  —  her.  If  I  left 
her  and  you,  now,  as  you  suggest,  smuggled  myself 
back  into  safety,  —  man,  it's  not  to  be  thought  of!" 

"  Well,  I  will  urge  you  no  more,"  he  said  sadly.  "  But 
you  are  sacrificing  yourself  for  a  chivalrous  delusion, 
my  friend." 

"Where's  the  delusion?  I  know  she  does  not  love 
me;  and  I  am  quite  content." 

Long  after,  I  knew  what  he  had  wished  to  tell  me 
then,  and  I  can't  even  now  decide  what  I'd  have  done 
if  he  had  spoken,  whether  I  would  have  gone  or  stayed ; 
but  I  think  I  'd  have  stayed  ! 

10 


290  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

When  I  had  bathed  and  dressed  in  Vassilitzi's 
dressing-room,  —  he  was  still  in  bed  and  asleep  in  the 
adjoining  one,  —  a  servant  took  me  to  Anne's  boudoir, 
a  small  bare  room  that  yet  had  a  cosey  homelike  look 
about  it. 

She  was  alone,  sitting  in  a  low  chair,  her  hands  lying 
listlessly  on  the  lap  of  her  black  gown.  Her  face  was 
even  whiter  and  more  weary  than  it  had  looked  in  the 
morning,  and  she  had  been  weeping,  I  saw,  for  her  long 
lashes  were  still  wet ;  but  she  summoned  up  a  smile  for 
me,  —  that  brave  smile,  that  was,  in  a  way,  sadder  and 
more  moving  than  tears. 

"You  have  heard  that  my  mother  is  dead?"  she 
asked,  in  a  low  voice.  "She  died  in  my  arms  half  an 
hour  after  we  got  in;  and  I  am  so  glad,  —  so  glad. 
I  have  been  thanking  God  in  my  heart  ever  since.  She 
never  knew  me;  she  knew  none  of  us,  but  Yossof;  and 
that  only  because  he  had  been  near  her  in  that  dreadful 
place.  You  saw  her  —  just  for  a  moment ;  you  saw 
something  of  what  those  long  years  had  made  of  her, 

—  and  we  —  my  God,  we  had  thought  her  dead  all  that 
time!" 

She  shuddered,  and  sat  staring  with  stern,  sombre 
eyes  at  the  fire,  her  slender  fingers  convulsively 
interlaced. 

She  was  silent  for  a  space,  and  so  was  I,  for  I  could 
find  never  a  word  to  say. 

Suddenly  she  looked  straight  at  me. 

"Maurice  Wynn,  if  ever  the  time  comes  when  you 
might  blame  me,  condemn  me,  —  justifiably  enough, 

—  think  of  my  mother's  history.     Remember  that  I 
was  brought  up  with  one  fixed  purpose  in  life,  —  to 
avenge  her,  even  when  I  only  thought  her  dead.    How 


AT  VASSILITZI'S  291 

much  more  should  that  vengeance  be,  now  that  I  know 
all  that  she  had  to  suffer !  And  she  is  only  one  among 
thousands  who  have  suffered,  —  who  are  suffering  as 
much,  —  yes,  and  more !  There  is  but  one  way,  —  to 
crush,  to  destroy,  the  power  that  has  done,  —  that  is 
doing  these  deeds.  It  will  not  be  done  in  our  time,  but 
we  are  at  least  preparing  the  way ;  within  a  few  days  we 
shall  have  gone  some  distance  along  it  —  with  a  rush  — 
towards  our  goal.  I  tell  you  that  to  further  this  work 
I  would  —  I  will  —  do  anything ;  sacrifice  even  those 
who  are  dearer  to  me  than  my  own  soul !  Therefore,  as 
I  said,  remember  that,  when  you  would  condemn  me 
for  aught  I  have  done,  or  shall  do !" 

"I  can  never  condemn  you,  Anne;  you  know  that 
well !  The  queen  can  do  no  wrong ! " 

The  fire  that  had  flashed  into  her  eyes  faded,  dimmed, 
I  thought,  by  a  mist  of  tears. 

"You  are  indeed  a  true  knight,  Maurice  Wynn," 
she  said  wistfully.  "I  do  not  deserve  such  devotion; 
no,  don't  interrupt  me,  I  know  well  what  I  am  saying, 
and  perhaps  you  also  will  know  some  day.  I  have 
deceived  you  in  many  ways;  you  know  that  well 
enough — " 

"As  I  now  know  your  purpose,"  I  answered.  "But 
why  did  n't  you  trust  me  at  first,  Anne  ?  When  we 
were  in  London?  Don't  think  I'm  blaming  you,  I'm 
not,  really;  but  surely  you  must  have  known,  even 
then,  that  you  might  have  trusted  me,  —  yes,  and 
Mary,  too." 

She  was  not  looking  at  me  now,  but  at  the  fire,  and 
she  paused  before  she  answered  slowly. 

"It  was  not  because  I  did  not  trust  you,  and  her; 
but  I  did  not  wish  to  involve  either  of  you  in  my  fortunes. 


292  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

You  have  involved  yourself  in  them,  —  my  poor, 
foolish  friend  !  But  she,  have  you  told  her  anything  ? " 

"No.  She  does  not  even  know  that  I  am  back  in 
Russia;  and  before  I  returned  I  told  her  nothing." 

"She  thinks  me  dead?" 

"She  did  not  know  what  to  think;  and  she  fretted 
terribly  at  your  silence." 

"Poor  Mary!"  she  said,  with  a  queer  little  pathetic 
smile.  "Well,  perhaps  her  mind  is  at  rest  by  this 
time." 

"You  have  written  to  her?" 

"  No,  —  but  she  has  news  by  this  time." 

"And  your  father?"    I  asked. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"You  must  ask  me  nothing  of  him;  perhaps  you  will 
learn  all  there  is  to  know  one  day.  How  strangely  your 
fate  has  been  linked  with  mine!  Think  of  Yossof 
meeting  you  that  night.  He  had  heard  of  my  danger 
from  the  League.  Ah,  that  traitor,  Selinski !  How 
much  his  miserable  soul  had  to  answer  for !  And  he 
did  not  know  whom  to  trust,  so  he  set  out  himself, 
though  he  speaks  no  word  of  any  language  but  his  own, 
and  bribed  and  begged  his  way  to  London.  He  found 
out  some  of  the  League  there,  at  a  place  in  Soho, 
learned  there  where  Selinski  lived,  stole  the  key  to  his 
rooms,  and  —  met  you.  He  is  a  marvel,  the  poor  good 
Yossof!" 

"  Did  you  know  it  was  he,  when  I  described  him  that 
night  ?  "  I  asked  impulsively. 

She  looked  up  quickly. 

"I  have  told  you,  I  did  not  wish  to  entangle  you  in 
my  affairs,  and  — " 

The  door  opened  and  her  cousin  entered. 


AT  VASSILITZI'S  293 

"Ah,  you  are  engaged,"  he  exclaimed,  glancing  from 
one  to  the  other  of  us. 

"  No,  we  have  finished  our  chat,"  said  Anne.  "  Come 
and  sit  down,  Stepan  —  for  a  few  minutes  only.  We 
have  much  to  do,  —  and  far  to  go,  to-night." 

How  weary  and  wistful  her  face  looked  as  she  spoke ! 


CHAPTER  XLV 

THE    CAMPAIGN   AT   WARSAW 

A  FEW  hours  later  we  were  on  the  road  once  more, 
—  Anne  and  Natalya  in  a  travelling  carriage,  the 
rest  of  us  mounted.  The  old  servant  was  sobbing 
hysterically  as  she  followed  her  mistress  down  the 
steps,  but  Anne's  white  face  was  tearless,  though  she 
turned  it  for  a  moment  with  a  yearning  farewell  glance 
towards  the  fresh-made  mound  hi  the  courtyard,  the 
grave  where  we  had  laid  the  corpse  of  her  mother,  in 
the  coffin  which  Mishka  and  some  of  the  men  had 
made  during  the  day. 

That  hurried  funeral  was  as  impressive  as  any  I  *ve 
ever  been  at,  though  there  was  no  service,  for  it  would 
have  been  impossible  to  summon  a  priest  in  time.  Be- 
sides, I  doubt  if  they  'd  have  got  an  orthodox  Russian 
priest  to  come,  for  the  Vassilitzis  were  Roman  Catho- 
lics, as  so  many  of  the  old  Polish  nobility  are. 

In  dead  silence  the  four  of  us,  Loris  and  Stepan, 
Mishka  and  I,  carried  the  coffin  down,  wrapped  in  an 
old  curtain  of  rich  brocade,  and  stood  by  with  bowed 
heads,  while,  still  in  silence,  it  was  lowered  down,  pall 
and  all. 

As  we  turned  away,  I  saw  a  face  at  one  of  the  windows 
and  knew  Anne  had  watched  us  at  our  task.  Her  self- 
control,  her  powers  of  endurance,  were  marvellous.  I 
do  not  believe  she  had  slept  all  that  day,  and  yet  when 
the  carriage  was  ready  she  came  out  with  a  steady  step : 


THE  CAMPAIGN  AT  WARSAW        295 

and  I  heard  her  speak  soothingly  to  the  weeping 
Natalya. 

That  was  the  last  I  saw  or  heard  of  her  for  several 
days,  for  it  had  been  arranged  that  she  should  drive 
to  Pruschan,  escorted  only  by  Loris  and  her  cousin 
and  a  couple  of  our  men,  and  travel  thence  by  train 
to  Warsaw,  while  Mishka  and  I  with  the  others  would 
ride  the  whole  way.  It  meant  a  couple  of  days'  delay 
in  reaching  Warsaw,  but  it  seemed  the  safest  plan; 
and  it  worked  without  a  hitch.  By  twos  and  threes  we 
rode  into  Warsaw  in  the  early  morning  of  the  day  that 
saw  the  beginning  of  the  great  strike,  —  and  of  the 
revolution  which  will  end  only  when  the  Russian  Em- 
pire becomes  a  Free  Republic;  and  God  only  knows 
when  that  will  come  to  pass ! 

I  have  been  through  three  regular  campaigns  in 
different  parts  of  the  world  during  the  last  ten  years, 
and  had  a  good  many  thrilling  experiences,  one  way 
and  another;  but  the  weeks  I  spent  in  Warsaw  in  the 
late  fall  of  the  year  1905  were  the  strangest  and  most 
eventful  I  've  ever  gone  through. 

As  I  look  back  now,  the  whole  thing  seems  like  a 
long  and  vivid  nightmare,  of  which  some  few  incidents 
stand  out  with  dreadful  distinctness,  and  the  rest  is 
a  mere  blur,  a  confusion  of  shifting  figures  and  scenes ; 
of  noise  and  dust  and  bloodshed.  Strenuous  days  of 
street  rioting  and  fighting,  in  which  one  and  all  of  us 
did  our  share;  and  when  the  row  was  over  for  the 
time  being,  turned  our  hands  to  ambulance  work. 
Nights  that  were  even  more  strenuous  than  the  days,  for 
in  the  night  the  next  day's  plan  had  to  be  decided  on, 
funds  and  food  given  out,  the  circulars  (reporting  prog- 
ress and  urging  the  people  to  stand  fast)  to  be  drawn 


296  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

up,  printed,  and  issued.  Such  publications  were  pro- 
hibited, of  course;  but  Warsaw,  like  most  of  the  other 
cities,  was  strewn  with  them.  People  read  them, 
flaunting  them  openly  before  the  eyes  of  the  authorities ; 
and  though  the  police  and  the  soldiers  tried  the  plan 
of  bayoneting  or  shooting  at  sight  every  one  whom 
they  saw  with  a  revolutionary  print,  they  soon  had  to 
reserve  it  for  any  defenceless  woman  or  even  child 
whom  they  might  encounter.  For  the  great  majority 
of  the  strikers  were  armed,  and  they  showed  themselves 
even  quicker  with  their  revolvers  and  "killers"  than 
the  soldiers  were  with  their  rifles;  while  every  soldier 
killed  represented  one  more  rifle  seized. 

We  reported  ourselves  on  arrival,  as  arranged,  at  a 
spacious  old  house  in  a  narrow  street  near  the  Uni- 
versity, which  thenceforth  became  our  headquarters; 
and,  within  a  few  hours,  a  kind  of  hospital,  also,  for 
there  were  soon  many  wounded  to  be  cared  for. 

Anne  organized  a  band  of  women  as  amateur  nurses, 
with  Natalya  at  the  head  of  them,  in  our  house,  while 
others  were  on  duty  elsewhere.  This  quarter,  as  I 
found,  was  a  stronghold  of  the  League;  and  many 
houses  were,  like  ours,  turned  into  temporary  hospitals. 
But  I  gathered  that  comparatively  few  of  Anne's  most 
influential  colleagues  were  in  sympathy  with  her  efforts 
to  mitigate  the  horrors  that  surrounded  us.  In  that 
way,  we,  her  own  chosen  band,  worked  almost  alone. 
Most  of  the  revolutionists  were  as  callous,  as  brutal,  as 
the  Cossacks  themselves,  —  women  as  well  as  men. 
They  would  march  in  procession,  waving  banners  and 
singing  patriotic  songs,  and,  when  the  inevitable  colli- 
sion with  the  soldiers  came,  they  would  fight  like  furies, 
and  die  with  a  laugh  of  defiance  on  their  lips.  But 


THE   CAMPAIGN  AT  WARSAW         297 

those  who  came  through,  unscathed,  had  neither  care 
nor  sympathy  to  bestow  on  the  fallen. 

"I  join  your  band  of  nurses  ?"  a  handsome  vivacious 
little  woman  —  evidently  one  of  her  own  rank  —  said 
to  Anne  one  day,  with  a  scornful  laugh.  "I  am  no 
good  at  such  work.  Give  me  real  work  to  do,  a  bomb 
to  throw,  a  revolver  to  fire;  I  have  that  at  least"  —  she 
touched  her  fur  blouse  significantly.  "I  want  to  fight  — 
to  kill  —  and  if  I  am  killed  instead,  well,  it  is  but  the 
fortune  of  war  !  But  nursing  —  bah  —  I  have  not  the 
patience !  You  are  far  too  tender-hearted,  Anna 
Petrovna;  you  ought  to  have  been  a  nun;  but  what 
would  our  handsome  Loris  have  done  then  ?  Oh,  it  is 
all  right,  ma  chere;  I  am  quite  discreet.  But  do  you 
suppose  I  have  not  recognized  him  ? " 

Anne  looked  troubled. 

"And  others,  —  do  they  recognize  him  ?"  she  asked 
quietly. 

"Who  knows?  We  are  too  busy  these  days  to  think 
or  care  who  any  one  is  or  is  not.  Besides,  he  is  sup- 
posed to  be  dead;  it  was  cleverly  planned,  that  bomb 
affair  !  Was  it  your  doing,  Anna  ?  He  is  too  stupidly 
honest  to  have  thought  of  it  himself.  There !  Do  not 
look  so  vexed,  and  have  no  fear  that  I  shall  denounce 
him.  He  is  far  too  good-looking  !  You  have  a  penchant 
for  good-looking  men,"  she  added,  with  an  audacious 
glance  in  my  direction. 

It  happened  for  once  that  Anne  and  I  were  alone  to- 
gether, until  Madame  Levinska  turned  up,  in  the  room 
that  was  used  as  an  office,  and  where  between-whiles 
I  did  a  good  bit  of  secretarial  work.  That  small  un- 
tidy room  represented  the  bureau  from  which  the  whole 
of  this  section  of  the  League  was  controlled,  practically 


298  THE  RED   SYMBOL 

by  that  slender,  pale-faced  girl  in  the  black  gown,  who 
sat  gravely  regarding  her  frivolous  acquaintance. 

Her  grasp  of  affairs  was  as  marvellous  as  her  per- 
sonal courage  in  time  of  need ;  she  was  at  once  the  head 
and  the  heart  of  the  whole  organization. 

I  felt  angry  with  the  Levinska  woman  for  her  taunt. 
She,  and  such  as  she,  who  were  like  so  many  undis- 
ciplined children,  and  whose  ideas  of  revolution  were 
practically  limited  to  acts  of  violence  committed  in 
defiance  or  reprisal,  could  not  even  begin  to  under- 
stand the  ideals  not  merely  held,  but  maintained,  by 
Anne  and  Loris,  and  the  few  others  who,  with  them, 
knew  that  permanent  good  could  never  be  accom- 
plished by  evil  means.  Those  two  were  dreamers, 
dreaming  greatly;  theirs  was  the  vision  splendid, 
though  they  saw  it  only  from  far  off,  and  strove  cour- 
ageously but  unavailingly  to  draw  near  to  it.  That 
vision  will  some  day  become  a  reality;  and  then,  —  I 
wonder  if  any  remembrance  of  those  who  saw  it  first 
and  paved  the  way  to  its  realization,  will  linger,  save 
in  the  minds  of  the  few  who  knew,  and  loved,  and 
worked  beside  them,  but  who  were  not  permitted  to 
share  their  fate  ?  I  doubt  it,  for  the  world  at  large  has 
a  short  memory ! 

Anne  made  no  comment  on  Madame  Levinska's 
last  remark,  while  I  kept  on  with  my  work.  I  wished 
the  woman  would  go,  for  we  had  much  to  get  through 
this  afternoon,  and  at  any  moment  some  serious  in- 
terruption might  occur ;  or  the  news  we  were  awaiting 
might  come. 

The  streets  were  unusually  quiet  to-day,  hereabouts 
at  any  rate,  and  a  few  timid  folk  who  had  kept  within 
doors  of  late  had  again  ventured  out.  On  the  previous 


THE   CAMPAIGN  AT  WARSAW         299 

day  several  big  meetings  had  been  held,  almost  with- 
out opposition,  for,  although  martial  law  was  pro- 
claimed, and  thousands  of  soldiers  had  entered  the 
city,  "to  repress  disturbances"  many  of  the  troops, 
including  a  whole  regiment  of  hussars  from  Grodno, 
had  refused  to  fire  on  the  people.  Since  then  there  was 
a  decided  abatement  of  hostilities;  though  one  dared 
not  hope  that  it  meant  more  than  a  mere  lull  in  the 
storm. 

The  railway  and  telegraph  strikes  were  maintained, 
but  plenty  of  news  got  through,  —  news  that  the  revolu- 
tion was  general ;  that  Kronstadt  and  Riga  were  in 
flames ;  Petersburg  and  Moscow  in  a  state  of  anarchy ; 
that  many  of  the  troops  had  mutinied  and  were  fighting 
on  the  side  of  the  revolutionists,  while  the  rest  were 
disheartened  and  tired  out.  During  the  last  few  hours 
persistent  rumors  had  reached  us  that  the  Tzar  was 
on  the  point  of  issuing  a  manifesto  granting  civil  and 
political  liberty  to  the  people;  a  capitulation  on  all 
important  points  in  fact.  If  the  news  were  true  it  was 
magnificent.  Such  of  us  as  were  optimists  believed  it 
would  be  the  beginning  of  a  new  and  glorious  era. 
Already  we  had  disseminated  such  information  as  had 
reached  us,  by  issuing  broadcast  small  news-sheets 
damp  from  the  secret  printing-press  in  the  cellar  of  the 
old  house.  A  week  or  two  ago  that  press  would  have 
had  to  be  shifted  to  a  fresh  hiding-place  every  night; 
but  in  these  days  the  police  had  no  time  for  making 
systematic  inquisitions;  it  was  all  they  could  do  to 
hold  their  own  openly  against  the  mob. 

And  now  we  were  waiting  for  fresh  and  more  definite 
tidings,  and  I  know  Anne's  heart  beat  high  with  hope, 
though  we  had  not  exchanged  a  dozen  words  before 


300  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

Madame  Levinska  made  her  unwelcome  appearance; 
and  Anne,  who  had  but  just  returned  to  the  room  after 
going  the  round  of  our  amateur  hospital,  tackled  her 
about  the  nursing. 

She  stayed  for  a  few  minutes  longer,  continuing  her 
irresponsible  chatter  and  then,  to  my  relief,  anyhow, 
took  herself  off,  announcing  airily  that  she  was  going 
to  see  if  there  was  any  fun  stirring. 

"Do  not  be  reckless,  Marie,"  Anne  called  after  her. 
"You  do  no  good  by  that,  and  may  do  much  harm." 

"Have  no  fear  for  me,  little  nun,"  she  retorted  gaily, 
over  her  shoulder.  "I  can  take  care  of  myself." 

"She  sees  only,  —  cares  only  for  the  excitement,  the 
poor  Marie ! "  I  heard  Anne  murmur  with  a  sigh,  as 
she  crossed  to  the  window  and  watched  her  friend's 
retreating  figure ;  a  jaunty  audacious  little  figure  it  was  ! 

There  was  a  clatter  and  jingle  below,  and  three  or 
four  Cossacks  cantered  along.  One  of  them  called  out 
something  to  Madame  Levinska,  and  she  turned  and 
shrilled  back  an  answer,  her  black  eyes  flashing. 

He  reined  up  and  slashed  at  her  with  his  nagaika. 

Even  before  the  jagged  lead  caught  her  face,  ripping 
it  from  brow  to  chin,  she  drew  her  revolver  and  fired 
pointblank  at  him,  missed  him,  and  fell,  as  he  spurred 
his  horse  on  to  her  and  struck  again  and  again  with 
his  terrible  whip. 

In  an  instant  the  street  was  in  an  uproar. 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

THE    BEGINNING   OF   THE    END 

THE  whole  thing  happened  far  more  quickly  than 
it  can  be  told.  I  dragged  Anne  back  from  the 
window,  slammed  the  shutters  to,  —  for  one  of  the  Cos- 
sacks' favorite  tricks  was  to  fire  at  any  one  seen  at  a 
window  in  the  course  of  a  street  row,  —  and,  curtly 
bidding  Anne  stay  where  she  was  for  the  moment, 
rushed  downstairs  and  out  into  the  street,  revolver  in 
hand. 

Mishka  and  half  a  dozen  of  our  men  were  before  me ; 
there  were  very  few  of  us  in  the  house  just  now ;  most 
of  the  others  were  with  Loris  and  Vassilitzi,  attending 
a  big  procession  and  meeting  in  Marchalkowskaia,  with 
their  usual  object,  —  to  maintain  order  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, and  endeavor  to  prevent  conflicts  between  the 
troops  and  the  people.  It  was  astonishing  how  much 
Loris  had  achieved  in  this  way,  even  during  these  last 
terrible  days  of  riot  and  bloodshed.  He  was  ever  on 
the  alert;  he  seemed  to  know  by  instinct  how  to  seize 
the  right  moment  to  turn  the  temper  of  the  crowd  or 
the  soldiers,  and  avert  disaster;  and  his  splendid  per- 
sonality never  failed  in  its  almost  magnetic  effect  on 
every  one  who  came  in  contact  with  it.  He  was  a  born 
leader  of  men ! 

And,  although  he  was  always  to  the  fore  in  every 
affair,  as  utterly  reckless  of  his  own  safety  as  he  was 
anxious  to  secure  the  safety  of  others,  he  had  hitherto 


802  THE  RED   SYMBOL 

come  unscathed  through  everything,  though  a  couple 
of  our  men  had  been  killed  outright,  several  others 
badly  wounded,  and  the  rest  of  us  had  got  a  few  hard 
knocks  one  way  or  other.  I  'd  had  a  bullet  through  my 
left  arm,  the  arm  that  was  broken  in  the  scrimmage 
outside  Petersburg  in  June,  a  flesh  wound  only,  luckily, 
though  it  hurt  a  bit  when  I  had  time  to  think  of  it,  — 
which  was  n't  often. 

By  the  time  we  got  into  the  street,  the  affair  was  over. 
The  Cossacks,  urging  their  ponies  at  the  usual  wild  gal- 
lop, and  firing  wantonly  up  at  the  houses,  since  the 
people  who  had  been  in  the  street  had  rushed  for  cover, 
were  almost  out  of  sight ;  and  on  the  road  and  sidewalk 
near  at  hand  were  several  killed  and  wounded,  —  mostly 
women,  —  besides  Madame  Levinska,  who  had  been  the 
cause  of  it  all,  and  had  paid  with  her  life. 

She  was  a  hideous  sight,  she  who  five  minutes  before 
had  been  so  gay,  so  audacious,  so  full  of  vivacity.  The 
brutes  had  riddled  her  prostrate  body  with  bullets, 
slashed  at  it  with  their  whips,  trampled  it  under  their 
horses'  hoofs;  and  it  lay  huddled,  shapeless,  with  scarce 
a  semblance  to  humanity  left  in  it. 

I  head  a  low,  heartfelt  cry,  and  saw  Anne  beside  me, 
her  fair  face  ashen  white,  her  eyes  dilated  with  horror 
and  compassion,  as  she  stared  at  her  friend's  corpse. 

"Go  back!"  I  said  roughly.  "You  can  do  nothing 
for  her.  And  we  will  see  to  the  rest;  go  back,  I  say. 
There  may  be  more  trouble." 

"My  duty  is  here,"  she  said  quietly,  and  passed  on 
to  bend  over  a  woman  who  was  kneeling  and  screaming 
beside  a  small  body,  —  that  of  a  lad  about  eight  or 
nine  years  old,  —  which  lay  very  still. 

It  was,  as  I  well  knew,  useless  to  argue  with  Anne; 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END      303 

so  I  went  on  with  my  ambulance  work  in  grim  silence, 
keeping  near  her,  and  letting  the  others  go  to  and  fro, 
helping  the  wounded  into  shelter  and  carrying  away  the 
dead.  Natalya  had  run  out  also  and  joined  her  mistress. 
Yossof  was  not  at  hand ;  it  was  he  whom  we  expected 
to  bring  the  news  we  were  awaiting  so  eagerly.  He  had 
come  with  us  to  Warsaw,  and  though  he  lived  in  the 
Ghetto  among  his  Jewish  kindred,  was  constantly  back 
and  forth.  He  was  invaluable  as  a  messenger,  —  a  spy 
some  might  call  him,  —  although  he  knew  no  language 
but  Yiddish  and  Polack,  and  the  queer  Russian  lingo 
that  was  a  mingling  of  all  three.  But  of  course  he 
learned  a  great  deal  from  his  fellow  Jews.  Hunted, 
persecuted,  wretched  as  they  are,  the  Polish  and  Rus- 
sian Jews  always  have,  or  can  command,  money,  and 
the  way  they  get  hold  of  news  is  nothing  short  of  mar- 
vellous, —  in  the  Warsaw  Ghetto,  anyhow ! 

There  was  quite  a  crowd  around  us  soon,  as  the 
people  who  had  fled  before  the  Cossacks  came  back 
again,  —  weeping,  gesticulating,  shouting  imprecations 
on  the  Tzar,  the. Government,  the  soldiers,  —  as  they 
always  did  when  they  were  excited;  but,  as  usual, 
doing  very  little  to  help. 

All  at  once  there  was  a  bigger  tumult  near  at  hand, 
and  a  mob  came  pouring  along  the  street,  a  disorderly 
procession  of  men  and  women  and  little  children, 
flaunting  banners,  waving  red  handkerchiefs,  laughing, 
crying,  shouting,  and  singing,  as  if  they  were  more  than 
half  delirious  with  joy  and  excitement.  And  what  was 
more  remarkable,  there  were  neither  police  nor  soldiers 
in  sight,  nor  any  sign  of  Loris  or  his  men.  Many  such 
processions  occurred  in  Warsaw  that  day,  when  the 
great  news  came,  —  news  that  was  soon  to  be  so  hor- 


304  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

ribly  discounted  and  annulled;  and  that,  for  me,  was 
rendered  insignificant,  even  in  that  first  hour,  by  the 
great  tragedy  that  followed  hard  upon  its  coming,  — 
the  tragedy  that  will  overshadow  all  my  life.  Even 
after  the  lapse  of  years  I  can  scarcely  bring  myself  to 
write  of  it,  though  every  incident  is  stamped  indelibly 
on  my  brain.  Clear  before  my  eyes  now  rises  Anne's 
face,  as,  with  her  arm  about  the  poor  mother  —  who 
was  half  fainting  —  she  turned  and  looked  at  the  joy- 
ous rabble. 

"What  is  it?"  she  cried,  and  at  the  same  instant 
Yossof  hurried  up,  and  spoke  breathlessly  to  her. 

She  listened  to  his  message  with  parted  lips,  her  eyes 
starry  with  the  light  of  ecstatic  joy. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked  in  my  turn,  for  I  could  n't 
catch  what  Yossof  said. 

"It's  true,  —  it's  true;  oh,  thank  God  for  all  His 
mercies !  The  end  is  in  sight,  Maurice ;  the  new  era 
is  beginning  —  has  begun.  The  Tzar  has  yielded ;  he 
has  issued  the  manifesto,  granting  all  demands  —  " 

I  stood  staring  at  her,  stricken  dumb,  not  by  the  news 
she  told,  but  by  her  unearthly  beauty.  The  face  that 
was  so  worn  with  all  the  toil  and  conflict  and  anxiety 
of  these  strenuous  days  and  weeks  was  transfigured; 
and  above  it  her  red-gold  hair  shone  like  a  crown  of 
glory. 

I  know  what  was  in  her  mind  at  that  moment,  —  the 
thought  that  all  had  not  been  in  vain,  that  the  long 
struggle  was  almost  ended,  victory  in  sight;  with  free- 
dom for  the  oppressed,  cessation  of  bloodshed,  a  grad- 
ual return  to  law  and  order,  the  patient  building  up  of 
a  new  civilization.  Had  I  not  heard  her  and  Loris 
speak  in  that  strain  many  times,  the  last  only  a  few 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END       305 

hours  back,  when  the  reassuring  rumors  began  to 
strengthen  ? 

"They  were  dreamers,  dreaming  greatly!" 

For  a  few  seconds  only  did  I  stand  gazing  at  her,  for 
the  mob  was  upon  us.  It  jostled  us  apart,  swept  us 
along  with  it,  and,  as  I  fought  my  way  to  rejoin  her  — 
she  and  Natalya  still  supported  the  woman  whose  little 
son  had  just  been  killed  —  a  quick  revulsion  of  feeling 
came  over  me,  and  with  it  a  queer  premonition  of  im- 
minent evil. 

The  mob  was  so  horrible ;  made  up  for  the  most  part 
of  the  scum  of  Warsaw,  reeking  with  vodka,  drunk  with 
liquor  and  excitement. 

Pah !  They  were  not  fit  for  the  freedom  they  clam- 
ored for,  and  yet  it  was  for  them  and  for  others  like 
them,  that  she  toiled  and  plotted  in  peril  of  her  life ! 

Before  I  could  win  to  her  side,  a  warning  cry  arose 
ahead,  followed  instantly  by  the  crackle  of  rifle  fire,  the 
phut  of  revolver  shots,  yells,  shrieks,  an  infernal  din. 
A  squadron  of  Cossacks  was  charging  the  crowd  from 
the  front,  and  as  it  surged  back,  the  same  hellish  sounds 
broke  from  the  rear.  More  soldiers  were  following,  the 
mob  was  between  two  fires,  —  trapped. 

Gasping,  bleeding,  I  struggled  against  the  rush,  striv- 
ing to  make  my  way  back  to  where  I  could  see  the  gleam 
of  Anne's  golden  hair,  close  against  the  wall.  I  guessed 
that,  with  her  usual  resource,  she  had  drawn  her  com- 
panions aside  when  the  turmoil  began,  and  they  had 
their  backs  to  the  wall  of  one  of  the  houses. 

The  soldiers  were  right  among  the  mob  now,  and  it 
was  breaking  into  groups,  each  eddying  round  one  or 
more  of  the  horsemen,  who  had  as  much  as  they  could 
do  to  hold  their  own  with  whip  and  sabre.  It  was  im- 

20 


306  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

possible  to  reload  the  rifles,  and  anyhow  they  would 
not  have  been  much  use  at  these  close  quarters.  I  saw 
more  than  one  horse  overborne,  his  rider  dragged  from 
the  saddle  and  hideously  done  to  death.  The  rabble 
were  like  mad  wolves  rather  than  human  beings. 

A  fresh  volley  from  the  front,  —  more  troops  were 
coming  up  there,  —  yells  of  triumph  from  the  rear, 
where  the  soldiers  had  been  beaten  back  and  a  way  of 
retreat  opened  up.  The  furious  eddies  merged  into  a 
solid  mass  once  more,  a  terror  stricken  sauve  qui  peul 
before  the  reinforcements. 

Impossible  to  make  headway  against  this;  and  yet 
every  instant  I  was  being  swept  along,  further  from 
Anne.  All  I  could  do  was  to  set  my  teeth  and  edge 
towards  the  sidewalk.  I  got  to  the  wall  at  last,  set  my 
back  to  it,  and  let  the  rout  pour  by,  the  Cossacks  in  full 
chase  now,  felling  every  straggler  they  overtook,  even 
slashing  at  the  dead  and  wounded  as  they  rode  over 
them. 

I  started  to  run  back,  and  the  wild  horsemen  did  not 
molest  me.  I  still  wore  the  uniform  in  which  I  had  left 
Zostrov;  it  was  in  tatters  after  this  frenzied  half-hour, 
but  it  stood  me  in  good  stead  once  again,  and  prevented 
my  being  shot  down. 

There  was  Anne,  still  alive,  thank  God;  she  was 
kneeling  beside  the  woman ;  and  Natalya,  also  unhurt, 
stood  by  her,  trying  to  raise  her,  and  seemingly  urging 
her  to  seek  shelter. 

I  tried  to  shout,  but  my  mouth  was  too  dry,  so  I 
ran  on,  stumbling  over  the  bodies  that  strewed  the 
ground. 

Some  of  the  Cossacks  had  turned  and  were  riding 
back ;  a  group  passed  me  as  I  neared  Anne,  and  one  of 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END       307 

them  swung  his  rifle  up  and  fired.  Natalya  fell  with  a 
scream,  and  Anne  sprang  up. 

"Shame,  shame,  you  cowards,  to  shoot  defenceless 
women ! "  she  cried  indignantly. 

He  spurred  towards  her,  but  I  was  first.  I  flung  my- 
self before  her  and  fired  at  him.  He  reeled,  swerved, 
and  galloped  on,  but  his  companions  were  round  us.  I 
fired  again,  and  yet  again ;  something  flashed  above  me : 
I  felt  a  stunning  blow  on  my  forehead,  staggered  back, 
and  fell. 

The  last  thing  I  heard  was  a  woman's  shriek. 


CHAPTER  XLVII 

THE  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  SQUARE 

IT  was  the  flat  of  the  sabre  that  had  got  me  on  the 
forehead,  otherwise  there  'd  have  been  an  end  of 
me  at  once.  I  was  not  unconscious  for  very  long,  for 
when  I  sat  up,  wiped  the  blood  out  of  my  eyes,  and 
stared  about  me,  sick  and  dazed,  unable  for  the  mo- 
ment to  recollect  what  had  happened,  I  could  still  hear 
a  tumult  raging  in  the  distance. 

The  street  itself  was  quiet;  the  soldiers,  the  mob 
were  gone ;  all  the  houses  were  shut  and  silent,  though 
scared  faces  were  peeping  from  some  of  the  upper  win- 
dows. Here  and  there  a  wounded  man  or  woman  was 
staggering  or  crawling  away;  and  close  beside  me  a 
woman  was  sitting,  like  a  statue  of  despair,  with  her 
back  against  the  wall,  and  something  lying  prone  across 
her  knees  —  the  little  mangled  body  of  the  boy  who  had 
been  killed  in  the  first  scuffle,  that  Marie  Levinska 
had  provoked. 

I  remembered  all  then,  and  looked  round  wildly  for 
Anne.  There  was  no  sign  either  of  her  or  of  Natalya. 

I  scrambled  up,  impatiently  binding  my  handker- 
chief tight  round  my  wounded  head,  which  was  bleed- 
ing profusely  now,  and  stood  over  the  silent  woman. 

"Where  are  they?  Where  is  the  lady  who  was  with 
you?"  I  demanded  hoarsely.  "Answer  me,  for  God's 
sake!" 


THE  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  SQUARE  309 

"They  took  her  away  —  those  devils  incarnate  — 
and  the  other  woman  got  up  and  ran  after,"  she  an- 
swered dully.  "There  was  an  officer  with  them;  he 
cried  out  that  they  would  teach  her  not  to  insult  the 
army." 

I  felt  my  blood  run  cold.  Since  I  returned  to  this 
accursed  country  I  had  seen  many  —  and  heard  of 
more  —  deeds  of  such  fiendish  cruelty  perpetrated  on 
weak  women,  on  innocent  little  children,  that  I  knew 
what  the  Cossacks  were  capable  of  when  their  blood 
was  up.  They  were,  as  the  women  said,  devils  in- 
carnate at  such  times. 

My  strength  came  back  to  me,  the  strength  of  mad- 
ness, and  I  rushed  away,  down  that  stricken  street,  with 
but  one  clear  idea  in  my  mind,  —  to  die  avenging  Anne, 
for  I  knew  no  power  on  earth  could  save  her. 

As  I  ran  the  tumult  waxed  louder,  coming,  as  I 
guessed,  from  the  great  square  to  which  the  street  led 
at  this  end. 

Half-way  along,  a  woman,  huddled  in  the  roadway, 
clutched  at  me,  with  a  moaning  cry.  I  shook  off  her 
grasp,  glanced  at  her,  and  saw  she  was  Natalya.  The 
faithful  soul  had  not  been  able  to  follow  her  mistress 
far. 

"Where  have  they  taken  her?"  I  cried. 

She  could  not  speak,  but  she  glared  at  me,  a  world  of 
anguish  and  horror  in  her  dark  eyes,  and  pointed  in 
the  direction  I  was  going,  and  I  hurried  on.  I  had  a 
"killer"  in  my  hand,  the  deadly  little  bludgeon  of  lead, 
set  on  a  spiral  copper  spring,  that  was  the  favorite 
weapon  of  the  mob,  though  I  have  n't  the  least  notion 
as  to  when  I  picked  it  up. 

Now  I  was  on  the  fringe  of  the  crowd  that  overflowed 


310  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

from  the  square,  and  was  pushing  my  way  forward 
towards  the  centre,  a  furious  vortex  of  noise  and  con- 
fusion. A  desperate  fight  was  in  progress,  surging 
round  something,  some  one. 

"It  is  Anna  Petrovna!"  a  woman  screamed  above 
the  din.  "They  tore  her  clothes  from  her;  they  are 
beating  her  to  death  with  their  nagaikas!  Mother  of 
Mercy  !  That  such  things  should  be  !" 

'"A  la  vie  et  a  la  mort.'  Save  her;  avenge  her," 
some  one  shouted,  I  myself  I  think,  and  the  cry  was 
taken  up  and  echoed  hoarsely  on  all  sides.  So,  there 
must  be  many  of  the  League  in  the  turmoil. 

Now  I  was  in  the  thick  of  it,  a  swaying,  struggling 
mass  of  men  and  horses;  many  of  the  horses  plunging 
riderless  as  the  wild  horsemen  were  dragged  from  their 
saddles,  and  disappeared  in  that  stormy  sea  of  outraged 
humanity.  The  Cossacks  were  getting  the  worst  of  it, 
for  once,  not  a  doubt  of  that. 

"Back,"  roared  a  mighty  voice.  "We  have  her; 
back  I  say ;  make  way  there,  —  let  us  pass  ! " 

Mishka's  voice,  and  Mishka's  burly  figure,  mounted 
on  a  horse,  pressed  forward  slowly,  forcing  a  way 
through  for  another  horseman  who  followed  close  in  his 
wake. 

"Make  way,  comrades,"  shouted  Mishka  again,  and 
at  the  cry,  at  the  sight  of  the  grim  silent  horseman  in  the 
rear,  a  curious  lull  fell  on  all  within  sight  and  hearing ; 
though  elsewhere  the  strife  raged  furiously  as  ever. 

Loris  sat  erect  in  his  saddle,  as  if  on  parade;  bare- 
headed, his  face  set  like  a  white  mask,  his  brilliant  blue 
eyes  fixed,  expressionless,  no,  that 's  not  the  right  word, 
but  I  can't  say  what  the  expression  was ;  neither  horror 
nor  anguish,  nor  despair,  just  a  quiet  steady  gaze, 


THE  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  SQUARE  311 

without  a  trace  of  human  emotion  in  it.  Save  that  he 
was  breathing  heavily  and  slowly,  he  might  have  been  a 
statue,  —  or  a  corpse.  I  am  sure  he  was  quite  uncon- 
scious of  his  surroundings.  The  reins  lay  loose  on  his 
horse's  neck,  and,  though  its  sides  heaved,  and  its  coat 
was  a  plaster  of  sweat  and  foam  and  blood,  the  good 
beast  took  its  own  way  quietly  through  that  densely 
packed,  suddenly  silent  mob,  as  if  it,  like  its  master, 
was  oblivious  of  the  mad  world  around  them. 

But  it  was  on  the  burden  borne  by  the  silent  horse- 
man that  every  eye  was  fixed ;  a  burden  partly  hidden 
by  a  soldier's  great  coat.  I  knew  she  was  dead,  —  we 
all  knew  it,  —  though  the  head  with  its  bright  di- 
shevelled hair,  as  it  lay  heavily  on  her  lover's  shoulder, 
seemed  to  have  a  semblance  of  life,  as  it  moved  slightly 
with  the  rise  and  fall  of  his  breast.  Her  face  was  hidden, 
but  from  under  the  coat  one  long  arm  swayed  limp,  its 
whiteness  hideously  marred  with  jagged  purple  weals, 
from  which  the  blood  still  oozed,  trickling  down  and 
dripping  from  the  tips  of  the  fingers, —  those  beautiful 
ringless  fingers  that  I  knew  and  loved  so  well. 

I  had  no  further  thought  of  fighting  now;  my  brain 
and  heart  were  numb,  so  I  just  dropped  my  weapon 
and  fell  in  behind  the  horse,  following  close  on  its  heels. 
Others  did  the  same,  the  whole  section  of  the  crowd  on 
this  side  the  square  moving  after  us,  in  what,  compared 
with  the  chaos  of  a  few  minutes  back,  was  an  orderly 
retreat. 

Well  it  was  for  some  of  them  that  they  did  so,  for  we 
had  scarcely  gained  the  street  when  the  rattling  boom 
of  artillery  sounded  in  the  rear ;  followed  by  a  renewed 
babel  of  shrieks  and  yells.  The  guns  had  been  brought 
up  and  the  work  of  summarily  clearing  the  square  had 


312  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

begun.  But  before  the  panic-stricken  mob  overtook 
us,  flying  helter-skelter  before  the  new  terror,  Loris 
had  urged  his  horse  forward,  or  it  quickened  its  pace 
of  its  own  accord  as  the  throng  in  front  thinned  and 
gave  way  more  easily.  I  think  I  tried  instinctively  to 
keep  up  with  it,  but  the  crowd  closed  round  me,  the 
rush  of  fugitives  from  the  rear  overtook,  overwhelmed 
us,  and  I  was  carried  along  with  it. 

I  suppose  I  must  have  kept  my  footing,  otherwise  I 
should  have  been  trampled  down,  as  were  so  many 
others  on  that  awful  day.  But  where  I  went  and  what 
I  did  during  the  hours  that  followed  I  don't  know, 
and  I  never  shall.  I  lost  all  sense  of  time  and  place; 
though  I  've  a  hazy  recollection  of  stumbling  on  alone, 
through  dark  streets,  sodden  with  the  rain  that  was  now 
falling  in  a  persistent,  icy  drizzle.  Some  of  the  streets 
were  silent  and  deserted;  in  others  I  paused  idly  to 
watch  parties  of  sullen  soldiers  and  police,  grumbling 
and  swearing  over  their  gruesome  task  of  collecting  the 
dead  bodies,  and  tossing  them  into  carts;  and  again  I 
stared  into  brilliantly  lighted  cafes  and  listened  to  the 
boisterous  merriment  of  those  within.  Were  they  cele- 
brating an  imaginary  victory,  or  acting  on  the  principle, 
"Let  us  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  — 
perchance  to-night  —  we  die  ?  " 

Death  brooded  over  the  city  that  night;  I  felt  His 
presence  everywhere,  —  in  the  streets  that  were  silent 
as  the  grave  itself ;  in  those  whence  the  dead  were  being 
removed;  most  of  all  where  men  and  women  laughed 
and  sang  and  defied  Him  !  But  I  felt  the  dread  Presence 
in  a  curious  detached  fashion.  Death  was  my  enemy 
indeed,  an  enemy  who  would  not  strike,  who  passed 
me  by  as  one  beneath  contempt !  And  always,  clear 


THE  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  SQUARE  313 

before  my  eyes,  in  my  ears,  above  all  other  sights  and 
sounds,  I  saw  Anne's  face,  heard  her  voice.  Now  she 
stood  before  me  as  I  had  first  known  her,  —  a  radiant, 
queenly  vision;  a  girl  whose  laughing  eyes  showed 
never  a  care  in  the  world,  or  a  thought  beyond  the  pass- 
ing moment.  Her  hands  were  full  of  flowers,  red 
flowers,  red  as  blood.  Why,  it  was  blood ;  it  was  stain- 
ing her  fingers,  dripping  from  them !  Yet  the  man 
did  n't  see  it ;  that  man  with  the  dark  eager  face,  who 
was  standing  beside  her,  who  took  a  spray  of  the  flowers 
from  her  hand.  What  a  fool  this  Cassavetti  is  not  to 
know  that  she  is  "La  Mori!" 

Now  she  is  changed;  she  wears  a  black  gown,  and 
the  red  flowers  have  vanished ;  but  she  is  lovelier,  more 
queenly  than  ever,  as  she  looks  at  me  with  wide,  pathetic 
eyes,  and  says,  "I  have  deceived  you  !" 

Again  she  stands,  with  hands  outstretched,  and 
cries,  "The  end  is  in  sight;  thank  God  for  all  His 
mercies ; "  and  her  face  is  as  that  of  an  angel  in  Heaven. 

But  always  there  is  a  barrier  between  her  and  me; 
a  barrier  impalpable  yet  unpassable.  I  try  to  surmount 
it,  but  I  am  beaten  back  every  time.  Now  it  is  Cassa- 
vetti who  confronts  me;  again,  and  yet  again,  it  is  Loris, 
with  his  stern  white  face,  his  inscrutable  blue  eyes.  He 
is  on  horseback;  he  rides  straight  at  me,  and  he  bears 
something  in  his  arms. 

I  struggled  up  and  looked  around  me.  I  knew  the 
place  well  enough,  the  long  narrow  room  that  had  once 
been  the  salle  a  manger  in  the  Vassilitzi's  Warsaw  house, 
but  that,  ever  since  I  had  known  it,  had  been  the  prin- 
cipal ward  in  the  amateur  hospital  instituted  by  Anne. 
A  squalid  ward  enough,  for  the  beds  were  made  up  on 


814  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

the  floor,  anyhow,  and  every  bit  of  space  was  filled, 
leaving  just  a  narrow  track  for  the  attendants  to  pass 
up  and  down. 

Along  that  track  came  a  big  figure  that  I  recognized 
at  once  as  Mishka,  walking  with  clumsy  caution. 

"You  are  better?  That  is  well,"  he  said  in  a  gruff 
undertone. 

"How  did  I  get  here?"  I  demanded. 

"Yossof  brought  you;  he  found  you  walking  about 
the  streets,  raving  mad.  It  is  a  marvel  that  you  were  not 
shot  down." 

Then  I  remembered  something  at  least  of  what  had 
passed.  . 

"  How  long  since  ?  "  I  stammered,  putting  my  hand 
up  to  my  bandaged  head. 

"Two  days." 

"And  —  ?" 

"I  will  answer  no  questions,"  he  growled  in  his  surli- 
est fashion.  "I  will  send  you  food  and  you  are  to  sleep 
again.  He  will  see  you  later." 

"He  —  Loris;  he  is  safe,  then?" 

He  nodded,  but  would  say  no  more,  and  presently  I 
drifted  back  into  sleep  or  unconsciousness. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 

THE    GRAND    DUCHESS   PASSES 

I'VE  heard  it  said  that  sick  or  wounded  people 
always  die  if  they  have  no  wish  to  live,  but  that 's 
not  true.  I  wanted  to  die  as  badly  as  any  one  ever  did, 
but  yet  I  lived.  I  suppose  I  must  have  a  lot  of  re- 
cuperative energy ;  anyhow,  next  time  I  woke  up  I  felt 
pretty  much  as  usual,  except  for  the  dull  throb  of  the 
wound  across  my  forehead,  which  some  one  had  scien- 
tifically strapped  up.  My  physical  pain  counted  as 
nothing  compared  with  the  agony  of  shame  and  grief 
I  suffered  in  my  soul,  as,  bit  by  bit,  I  recollected  all 
that  had  happened.  I  had  failed  in  my  trust,  failed 
utterly.  I  was  left  to  guard  her;  I  ought  to  have  for- 
bidden —  prevented  —  her  going  out  into  the  street 
at  all ;  and,  when  the  worst  came,  I  ought  to  have  died 
with  her. 

I  tried  to  say  something  of  this  to  Loris  when  I  was 
face  to  face  with  him  once  more,  in  the  room  where 
Anne  and  I  had  been  working  when  that  ill-omened 
woman,  Marie  Levinska,  interrupted  us ;  but  he  stopped 
me  with  an  imperative  gesture. 

"Do  not  reproach  yourself,  my  friend.  All  that  one 
man  could  do,  you  did.  I  know  that  well,  and  I  thank 
you.  One  last  service  you  shall  do,  if  you  are  fit  for 
it.  You  shall  ride  with  us  to-night  when  we  take  her 
away.  Mishka  has  told  you  of  the  arrangements? 


316  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

That  is  well.  If  we  get  through,  you  will  not  return 
here;  that  is  why  I  have  sent  for  you  now." 

"Not  return?"  I  repeated. 

"No,"  he  answered  quietly  but  decisively.  "Once 
before  I  begged  you  to  leave  us,  now  I  command  you 
to  do  so ;  not  because  I  do  not  value  you,  but  because  — 
she  —  would  have  wished  it.  Wait,  hear  me  out !  You 
have  done  noble  service  in  a  cause  that  can  mean  noth- 
ing to  you,  except — " 

"Except  that  it  is  a  cause  that  the  lady  I  served  lived, 
—  and  died  —  for,  sir,"  I  interrupted. 

More  than  once  before  I  had  spoken  of  her  to  him 
as  the  woman  we  both  loved ;  but  now  the  other  words 
seemed  fittest;  for  not  half  an  hour  back  I  had  learned 
the  truth,  that,  I  think,  I  had  known  all  along,  —  that 
she  who  lay  in  her  coffin  in  the  great  drawing-room 
yonder  was,  if  her  rights  had  been  acknowledged,  the 
Grand  Duchess  Loris  of  Russia.  It  was  Vassilitzi  who 
told  me. 

"They  were  married  months  ago,  in  Paris,  —  before 
she  went  to  England,"  he  had  said,  and  for  a  moment 
a  bitter  wave  of  memory  swept  over  me,  though  I 
fought  against  it.  Had  n't  I  decided  long  since  that 
the  queen  could  do  no  wrong,  and  therefore  the  de- 
ception she  had  practised  counted  for  nothing?  All 
that  really  mattered  was  that  I  loved  her  in  spite  of 
all;  asked  nothing  more  than  to  be  allowed  to  serve 
her. 

"You  served  her  under  a  delusion,"  he  rejoined  with 
stern  sadness.  "And  now  it  is  no  longer  possible  for 
you  to  serve  her  even  so.  I  cannot  discuss  the  matter 
with  you ;  I  cannot  explain  it,  —  I  would  not  if  I  could. 
Only  this  I  repeat.  I  request  —  command  you,  to 


THE  GRAND  DUCHESS  PASSES        317 

make  your  way  out  of  this  country  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  rejoin  your  friends  in  England,  or  America,  — • 
where  you  will.  It  may  mean  more  to  you  than  you 
dare  hope  or  imagine.  You  will  have  some  difficulty 
probably,  though  some  of  the  trains  are  running  again 
now.  I  think  your  safest  plan  will  be  to  ride  to  Kutno  — • 
or  if  necessary  even  to  Alexandrovo.  Here  is  a  pass- 
port, permitting  you  to  leave  Russia;  it  is  made  out  in 
the  name  you  assumed  when  you  returned  as  "  William 
Pennington  Gould,"  and  is  quite  in  order.  And  I  must 
ask  you,  for  the  sake  of  our  friendship,  to  accept  these" 
—  he  took  a  roll  of  notes  out  of  the  drawer  of  the  writ- 
ing-table—  "and,  as  a  memento,  —  this.  It  is  the 
only  decoration  I  am  able  to  confer  on  a  most  chival- 
rous gentleman." 

He  held  out  a  little  case,  open,  and  I  took  it  with  an 
unsteady  hand.  It  contained  a  miniature  of  Anne,  set 
in  a  rim  of  diamonds.  I  looked  at  it,  —  and  at  him,  — 
but  I  could  not  speak ;  my  heart  was  too  full. 

"There  is  no  need  of  words,  my  friend;  we  under- 
stand each  other  well,  you  and  I,"  he  continued,  rising 
and  placing  his  hands  on  my  shoulders.  "You  will  do 
as  I  wish,  —  as  I  entreat  —  insist  —  ?" 

"I  would  rather  remain  with  you !"  I  urged.  "And 
fight  on,  for  the  cause  — " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  It  is  a  lost  cause ;  or  at  least  it  will  never  be  won  by 
us.  The  manifesto,  the  charter  of  peace !  What  is  it  ? 
A  dead  letter.  Nicholas  issued  it  indeed,  but  his  Minis- 
ters ignore  it,  and  therefore  he  is  helpless,  his  charter 
futile  and  the  reign  of  terror  continues,  —  will  con- 
tinue. Therefore  I  bid  you  go,  and  you  must  obey. 
So  this  is  our  parting,  for  though  we  shall  meet,  we 


318  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

shall  be  alone  together  no  more.  Therefore,  God  be 
with  you,  my  friend ! " 

When  next  I  saw  him  he  stood  with  drawn  sword, 
stern  and  stately,  foremost  among  the  guard  of  honor 
round  the  catafalque  in  the  great  drawing-room,  where 
all  that  remained  of  the  woman  we  both  loved  lay  in 
state,  ere  it  fared  forth  on  its  last  journey. 

The  old  house  was  full  of  subdued  sounds,  for  as 
soon  as  darkness  fell,  by  ones  and  twos,  men  and 
women  were  silently  admitted  and  passed  as  silently 
up  the  staircase  to  pay  their  last  homage  to  their  martyr. 

Nearly  all  of  them  had  flowers  in  their  hands,  —  red 
flowers,  —  sometimes  only  a  single  spray,  but  always 
those  fatal  geranium  blossoms  that  were  the  symbol  of 
the  League.  They  laid  them  on  the  white  pall,  or 
scattered  them  on  the  folds  that  swept  the  ground,  till 
the  coffin  seemed  raised  above  a  sea  of  blood. 

Every  detail  of  that  scene  is  photographed  on  my 
memory.  The  great  room,  hung  with  black  draperies 
and  brilliantly  lighted  by  a  multitude  of  tall  wax 
candles;  the  air  heavy  with  incense  and  the  musky 
odor  of  the  flowers;  the  two  priests  in  gorgeous  vest- 
ments who  knelt  on  either  side,  near  the  head  of  the 
coffin,  softly  intoning  the  prayers  for  the  dead;  the 
black-robed  nuns  who  knelt  at  the  foot,  silent  save  for 
the  click  of  their  rosaries;  and  the  ghostly  procession 
of  men  and  women,  many  of  them  wounded,  all  hag- 
gard and  wan,  that  passed  by,  and  paused  to  gaze  on 
the  face  that  lay  framed,  as  it  were,  beneath  a  panel 
of  glass  in  the  coffin-lid,  from  which  the  pall  was  drawn 
back.  Many  of  them,  men  as  well  as  women,  were 
weeping  passionately;  some  pressed  their  lips  to  the 
glass;  others  raised  their  clenched  hands  as  if  to 


THE  GRAND  DUCHESS  PASSES       319 

register  a  vow  of  vengeance ;  a  few,  —  a  very  few,  — 
knelt  in  prayer  for  a  brief  moment  ere  they  passed  on. 

I  stood  at  my  post,  as  one  of  the  guard,  and  watched 
it  all  in  a  queer,  impersonal  sort  of  way,  as  if  my  soul 
was  somehow  outside  my  body. 

Although  I  stood  some  distance  away,  the  quiet  face 
under  the  glass  seemed  ever  before  my  eyes ;  for  I  had 
looked  on  it  before  this  solemn  ceremonial  began.  How 
fair  it  was,  —  and  yet  how  strange ;  though  it  was  un- 
marred,  unless  there  was  a  wound  hidden  under  the 
strip  of  white  ribbon  bound  across  the  forehead  and 
almost  concealed  by  the  softly  waving  chestnut  hair. 
But  even  the  peace  of  death  had  not  been  able  to  ban- 
ish the  expression  of  anguish  imprinted  on  the  lovely 
features.  Above  the  closed  eyelids,  with  their  long, 
dark  lashes,  the  brows  were'  contracted  in  a  frown, 
and  the  mouth  was  altered,  the  white  teeth  exposed, 
set  firmly  in  the  lower  lip.  Still  she  was  beautiful,  but 
with  the  beauty  of  a  Medusa.  I  could  not  think  of 
that  face  as  the  one  I  had  known  and  loved;  it  filled 
me  with  pity  and  horror  and  indignation,  indeed ;  but 
—  it  was  the  face  of  a  stranger. 

Why  had  I  not  been  content  to  remember  her  as  I 
had  known  her  in  life !  She  seemed  so  immeasurably 
removed  from  me  now;  and  that  not  merely  because 
I  could  no  longer  think  of  her  as  Anne  Pendennis,  — 
only  as  "  The  Grand  Duchess  Anna  Catharine  Petrovna, 
daughter  of  the  Countess  Anna  Vassilitzi-Pendennis, 
and  wife  of  Loris  Nicolai  Alexis,  Grand  Duke  of  Rus- 
sia," as  the  French  inscription  on  the  coffin-plate  ran,  — 
but  also  because  the  mystery  that  had  surrounded  her 
in  life  seemed  more  unpenetrable  than  ever  now  that 
she  was  dead. 


320  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

Where  was  her  father,  to  whom  she  had  seemed  so 
devotedly  attached  when  I  first  knew  her?  Even  sup- 
posing he  was  dead,  why  was  he  ignored  in  that  in- 
scription, save  for  the  mere  mention  of  his  surname, 
the  only  indication  of  her  mixed  parentage.  She  had 
never  spoken  of  him  since  that  day  at  the  hunting- 
lodge  when  she  had  said  I  must  ask  nothing  concerning 
him.  I  had  obeyed  her  in  that,  as  in  all  else,  and  had 
even  refrained  from  questioning  Vassilitzi  or  any  other 
who  might  have  been  able  to  tell  me  anything  about 
Anthony  Pendennis.  Besides,  there  had  been  no  time 
for  queries  or  conjectures  during  all  the  feverish  ex- 
citement of  these  days  in  Warsaw.  But  now,  in  this 
brief  and  solemn  interlude,  all  the  old  problems  re- 
curred to  my  mind,  as  I  stood  on  guard  in  the  death- 
chamber  ;  and  I  knew  that  I  could  never  hope  to  solve 
them. 

The  ceremony  was  over  at  last.  As  in  a  dream  I 
followed  the  others,  and,  at  a  low-spoken  word  of  com- 
mand, filed  past  the  catafalque,  with  a  last  military 
salute,  though  I  was  no  longer  in  uniform,  for  Mishka 
had  brought  me  a  suit  of  civilian  clothes. 

In  the  same  dazed  way  I  found  myself  later  riding 
near  the  head  of  the  procession  that  passed  through 
the  dark  silent  streets,  and  out  into  the  open  country. 
I  did  n't  even  feel  any  curiosity  or  astonishment  that 
a  strong  escort  of  regular  cavalry  —  lancers  —  accom- 
panied us,  or  when  I  recognized  the  officer  in  command 
as  young  Mirakoff ,  whom  I  had  last  seen  on  the  morn- 
ing when  I  was  on  my  way  to  prison  in  Petersburg. 
He  did  n't  see  me,  —  probably  he  would  n't  have  known 
me  if  he  had,  —  and  to  this  day  I  don't  know  how  he 
and  his  men  came  to  be  there,  or  how  the  whole  thing 


THE   GRAND   DUCHESS  PASSES        321 

was  arranged.  Anyhow,  none  molested  us ;  and  slowly, 
through  the  sleeping  city,  and  along  the  open  road,  the 
cortege  passed,  ghostlike,  in  the  dead  of  night.  The  air 
was  piercingly  cold,  but  the  sky  was  clear,  like  a  canopy 
of  velvet  spangled  with  great  stars. 

Mishka  rode  beside  me,  and  at  last,  when  we  seemed 
to  have  been  riding  for  an  eternity,  he  laid  his  hand  on 
my  rein,  and  whispered  hoarsely,  "Now." 

Almost  without  a  sound  we  left  the  ranks,  turned  up 
a  cross-road,  and,  wheeling  our  horses  at  a  few  paces 
distant,  waited  for  the  others  to  go  by;  more  unreal, 
more  dreamlike  than  ever.  Save  for  the  steady  tramp 
of  the  horses'  feet,  the  subdued  jingle  of  the  harness 
and  accoutrements,  they  might  have  been  a  company 
of  phantoms.  I  saw  the  gleam  of  the  white  pall  above 
the  black  bulk  of  the  open  hearse,  —  watched  it  dis- 
appear in  the  darkness,  and  knew  that  the  Grand 
Duchess  had  passed  out  of  my  life  forever. 

Still  I  sat,  bareheaded,  until  the  last  faint  sounds 
had  died  away,  and  the  silence  about  us  was  only  broken 
by  the  night  whisper  of  the  bare  boughs  above  us. 

"Come;  for  we  have  yet  far  to  go,"  Mishka  said 
aloud,  and  started  down  the  cross-road  at  a  quick  trot. 


CHAPTER  XLIX 

THE   END   OF   AN   ACT 

HOW  far  we  rode  I  can't  say;  but  it  was  still  dark 
when  we  halted  at  a  small  isolated  farmhouse, 
where  Mishka  roused  the  farmer,  who  came  out 
grumbling  at  being  disturbed  before  daybreak.  After 
a  muttered  colloquy,  he  led  us  in  and  called  his  wife 
to  prepare  tea  and  food  for  us,  while  he  took  charge 
of  the  horses. 

"You  must  eat  and  sleep,"  Mishka  announced  in  his 
gruff  way.  "You  ought  to  be  still  in  the  hospital;  but 
we  are  fools,  in  these  days,  every  one  of  us !  Ho  — 
little  father  —  shake  down  some  hay  in  the  barn ;  we 
will  sleep  there." 

I  must  have  been  utterly  exhausted,  for  I  slept 
heavily,  dreamlessly,  for  many  hours,  and  only  woke 
under  Mishka's  hand,  as  he  shook  me.  Through  the 
doorway  of  the  barn,  the  level  rays  of  the  westering  sun 
showed  that  the  short  November  day  was  drawing  to  a 
close. 

"You  have  slept  long;  that  is  well.  But  now  we 
must  be  up  and  away  if  we  are  to  reach  Kutno  to-night." 

"You  go  with  me?" 

"So  far,  yes.  If  there  are  no  trains  running  yet,  we 
go  on  to  Alexandrovo.  I  shall  not  leave  you  till  I  have 
set  you  safely  on  your  way.  Those  are  my  orders." 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  'm  going,"  I  muttered  dejectedly, 


THE  END  OF  AN  ACT  323 

sitting  up  among  the  hay.  "I  would  rather  have 
stayed." 

"You  go  because  he  ordered  you  to;  and  we  all  obey 
him,  whether  we  like  it  or  not !"  he  retorted.  "And  he 
was  right  to  send  you.  Why  should  you  throw  your 
We  away  for  nothing  ?  Come,  there  is  no  tune  to  waste 
in  words.  I  have  brought  you  water;  wash  and  dress. 
Remember  you  are  no  longer  a  disreputable  revolu- 
tionist, but  a  respectable  American  citizen,  and  we  must 
make  you  look  a  little  more  like  one." 

There  was  something  queer  in  his  manner.  Gruff  as 
ever,  he  yet  spoke  to  me,  treated  me,  almost  as  if  I  were 
a  child  who  had  to  be  heartened  up,  as  well  as  taken 
care  of.  But  I  did  n't  resent  it.  I  knew  it  was  his  way 
of  showing  affection;  and  it  touched  me  keenly.  We 
had  learned  to  understand  each  other  well,  and  no 
man  ever  had  a  stancher  comrade  than  I  had  in 
Mishka  Pavloff. 

During  that  last  of  our  many  rides  together  he  was 
far  less  taciturn  then  usual ;  I  had  never  heard  him  say 
so  much  at  one  stretch  as  he  did  while  we  pressed  on 
through  the  dusk. 

"We  have  shown  you  something  of  the  real  Russia 
since  you  came  back  —  how  many  weeks  since  ?  And 
now,  if  you  get  safe  across  the  frontier,  you  will  be 
wise  to  remain  there,  as  any  wise  man  —  or  woman 
either  —  who  values  life." 

"I  don't  value  my  life,"  I  interrupted  bitterly. 

"You  think  you  do  not.  That  is  because  you  are 
hasty  and  ignorant,  though  the  ignorance  is  not  your 
fault.  You  think  your  heart  is  broken,  hein  ?  Well, 
one  of  these  days,  not  long  hence,  perhaps,  you  will 
think  differently ;  and  find  that  life  is  a  good  thing  after 


324  THE  RED   SYMBOL 

all,  —  when  it  has  not  to  be  lived  in  Russia  !  If  we  ever 
meet  again,  you  will  know  I  have  spoken  the  truth." 

I  knew  that  before  many  days  had  passed,  and 
wondered  then  how  much  he  could  have  told  me  if  he 
had  been  minded. 

"If  we  meet  again!"  I  echoed  sadly.  "Is  that 
likely,  friend  Mishka?" 

"God  knows!  Stranger  things  have  happened.  If 
I  die  with,  or  before  my  master,  —  well,  I  die.  If  I 
do  not,  I,  too,  shall  make  for  the  frontier  when  he  no 
longer  has  need  of  me.  Where  is  the  good  of  staying  ? 
What  should  I  do  here  ?  I  would  like  to  see  peace  —  yes, 
but  there  will  be  no  peace  within  this  generation  — " 

"But  your  father?"  I  asked,  thinking  of  the  stanch 
old  man,  who  had  gone  back  to  his  duty  at  Zostrov. 

"My  father  is  dead." 

"Dead !"  I  exclaimed,  startled  for  the  moment  out 
of  the  inertness  that  paralyzed  my  brain. 

"He  was  murdered  a  week  after  he  returned  to 
Zostrov.  There  was  trouble  with  the  moujiks,  —  as  I 
knew  there  would  be.  The  garrison  at  the  castle  was 
helpless,  and  there  was  trouble  there  also,  first  about  my 
little  bomb  that  covered  our  retreat.  You  knew  I 
planned  that,  —  hein?" 

"No,  but  I  suspected  it." 

"And  you  said  nothing;  you  are  discreet  enough  in 
your  way.  He  never  suspected,  —  does  not  even  now; 
he  thinks  it  was  a  plot  hatched  by  his  enemies  —  per- 
haps by  Stravensky  himself,  the  old  fox  !  But  we  should 
never  have  got  through  to  Warsaw,  if,  for  a  tune,  at 
least,  all  had  not  believed  that  he  and  I  and  you  were 
finished  off  in  that  affair.  Better  for  him  perhaps,  if 
it  had  been  so  !" 


THE  END  OF  AN  ACT  325 

He  fell  silent,  and  I  know  he  was  thinking  of  the  last 
tragedy,  as  I  was.  The  memory  of  it  was  hard  enough 
for  me  to  bear ;  what  must  it  not  be  for  Loris  ? 

"Yes,  there  was  much  trouble,"  Mishka  resumed. 
"Old  Stravensky  was  summoned  to  Petersburg,  and  he 
had  scarcely  set  out  before  the  revolution  began,  and 
the  troops  were  recalled.  There  was  but  a  small 
garrison  left;  I  doubt  if  they  would  have  moved  a 
finger  in  any  case;  and  so  the  moujiks  took  their  own 
way,  and  my  father  —  went  to  his  reward.  He  was  a 
good  man,  and  their  best  friend  for  many  a  year,  but 
that  they  did  not  understand,  since  the  Almighty  has 
made  them  beasts  without  understanding !" 

The  darkness  had  fallen,  but  I  guessed  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders  in  the  way  I  knew  so  well.  A  fatalist  to 
the  finger-tips  was  Mishka. 

"The  news  came  three  days  since,"  he  continued. 
"And  such  news  will  come,  in  time,  from  every  country 
district.  I  tell  you  all  you  have  seen  and  known  is  but 
the  beginning,  and  God  knows  what  the  end  will  be ! 
Therefore,  as  I  have  said,  this  is  no  country  for  honest 
peaceable  folk.  My  mother  died  long  since,  God  be 
thanked;  and  now  but  one  tie  holds  me  here." 

"Look,  yonder  are  the  lights  of  Kutno." 

The  town  was  comparatively  quiet,  though  it  was 
thronged  with  soldiers,  and  there  were  plenty  of  signs 
that  Kutno  had  passed  through  its  own  days  of  terror, 
and  was  probably  in  for  more  in  the  near  future. 

We  left  our  horses  at  a  kabak  and  walked  through 
the  squalid  streets  to  the  equally  squalid  railway 
depot  where  we  parted,  almost  in  silence. 

"God  be  with  you,"  Mishka  growled  huskily.  His 
face  looked  more  grim  than  ever  under  the  poor  light 


326 

of  a  street-lamp  near,  and  he  held  my  hands  in  a  grip 
whose  marks  I  bore  for  a  week  after. 

He  strode  heavily  away,  never  once  looking  back,  and 
I  turned  into  the  depot,  where  I  found  the  entrance,  the 
ticket  office,  and  the  platform  guarded  by  surly,  un- 
kempt soldiers  with  fixed  bayonets.  I  lost  count  of  the 
tunes  I  had  to  produce  my  passport ;  and  turned  a  deaf 
ear  to  the  insults  lavished  upon  me  by  most  of  my 
interlocutors.  I  thought  I  had  better  resume  my  pre- 
tended ignorance  of  Russian  and  trust  to  German  to 
carry  me  through,  as  it  did.  I  was  allowed  to  board  one 
of  the  cars  at  last;  they  were  filthy,  lighted  only  by  a 
candle  here  and  there,  and  crowded  with  refugees  of  all 
classes.  I  was  lucky  to  get  in  at  all,  and,  though  all  the 
cars  were  soon  crammed  to  their  utmost  capacity,  it  was 
an  hour  or  more  before  the  train  started.  Then  it 
crawled  and  jolted  through  the  darkness  at  a  pace  that 
I  reckoned  would  land  us  at  Alexandrovo  somewhere 
about  noon  next  day,  —  if  we  ever  got  there  at  all. 

But  the  indescribable  discomforts  of  that  long  night 
journey  at  least  prevented  anything  in  the  way  of 
coherent  thought.  I  look  back  on  it  now  as  a  blank 
interval;  a  curtain  dropped  at  the  end  of  a  long  and 
lurid  act  in  the  drama  of  life. 

At  Alexandrovo  more  soldiers,  more  hustling,  more 
interrogations ;  then  the  barrier,  and  beyond,  — 
freedom ! 

I  've  a  hazy  notion  that  I  arrived  at  a  big,  well-lighted 
station,  and  was  taken  possession  of  by  some  one 
who  hustled  me  into  a  cab;  but  the  next  thing  I  re- 
member clearly  was  waking  and  finding  myself  in  bed, 
—  a  nice  clean  bed,  with  a  huge  down  pillow  affair 
on  top,  —  in  a  big  well-furnished  room.  That  down 


THE  END  OF  AN  ACT  327 

affair  —  I  could  n't  remember  the  name  of  it  for  the 
moment  —  and  the  whole  aspect  of  the  room  showed 
that  I  was  in  a  German  hotel ;  though  how  I  got  there 
I  really  could  n't  remember.  I  rang  the  bell ;  my 
hand  felt  so  heavy  that  I  could  scarcely  lift  it  as  far,  and 
it  looked  curiously  thin,  with  blue  marks,  like  faint 
bruises  on  it,  and  the  veins  stood  out. 

A  plump,  comfortable  looking  woman,  in  a  nurse's 
uniform,  bustled  in;  and  beamed  at  me  quite  affec- 
tionately. 

"Now,  this  is  better!  Yes,  I  said  it  would  be  so !" 
she  exclaimed  in  German.  "You  feel  quite  yourself 
again,  but  weak,  —  yes,  that  is  only  to  be  expected  — " 

"Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  where  I  am  ?"  I 
asked,  as  politely  as  I  knew  how;  staring  at  her,  and 
wondering  if  I  'd  ever  seen  her  before. 

"Oh,  you  men  !  No  sooner  do  you  find  your  tongue 
and  your  senses  than  you  begin  to  ask  questions ! 
And  yet  you  say  it  is  women  who  are  the  talkers!" 
she  answered,  with  a  kind  of  ponderous  archness. 
"You  are  at  the  Hotel  Reichshof  to  be  sure;  and  being 
well  taken  care  of.  The  head  ?"  she  touched  my  fore- 
head with  her  firm,  cool  fingers.  "It  hurts  no  more? 
Ah,  it  has  healed  beautifully ;  I  did  well  to  remove  the 
strappings  yesterday.  There  will  be  a  scar,  yes,  but 
that  cannot  be  helped.  And  now  you  are  hungry? 
Ah,  we  will  soon  set  that  right !  It  is  as  I  said,  though 
even  the  doctor  would  not  believe  me.  The  wounds  are 
nothing,  —  so  to  speak ;  the  exhaustion  was  the  mischief. 
You  came  through  from  Russia  ?  What  times  they  are 
having  there !  You  were  fortunate  to  get  through  at  all. 
Yes,  you  are  a  very  fortunate  man,  and  an  excellent 
patient;  therefore  you  shall  have  some  breakfast !" 


328  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

She  worried  me,  with  her  persistent  cheerfulness,  but 
it  would  have  been  ungracious  to  tell  her  so.  She  was 
right  in  one  way,  though.  I  was  ravenously  hungry; 
and  when  she  returned,  bringing  a  tray  with  delicious 
coffee  and  rolls,  I  started  on  them,  and  let  her  babble 
away,  as  she  did,  —  nineteen  to  the  dozen. 

I  gathered  that  nearly  a  week  had  passed  since  I  got 
to  Berlin.  The  hotel  tout  had  captured  me  at  the 
depot,  and  I  collapsed  as  I  got  out  of  the  cab. 

"In  the  ordinary  way,  you  would  have  been  sent  to  a 
hospital,  but  when  they  saw  the  portrait  —  " 

"What  portrait?"  I  asked;  but  even  as  I  spoke  my 
memory  was  returning,  and  I  knew  she  must  mean  the 
miniature  Loris  had  given  me. 

"What  portrait?  Why,  the  Fraulein  Pendennis,  to 
be  sure!" 


CHAPTER  L 

ENGLAND   ONCE   MORE 

I   STARTED  up  at  that. 
"Fraulein  Pendennis!"    I  gasped.     "You  know 
her?" 

"I  should  do  so,  after  nursing  her  through  such  an 
illness,  —  and  so  short  a  time  since !" 

"But,  —  when  did  you  nurse  her,  —  where?" 

"Why,  here;  not  in  this  room,  but  in  the  hotel.  It 
is  three  —  no,  nearer  four  months  since ;  she  also  was 
taken  ill  on  her  way  from  Russia.  There  is  a  strange 
coincidence !  But  hers  was  a  much  more  severe  illness. 
We  did  not  think  she  could  possibly  recover;  and  for 
weeks  we  feared  for  her  brain.  She  had  suffered  some 
great  shock;  though  the  Herr,  her  father,  would  not 
say  what  it  was  —  " 

She  looked  at  me  interrogatively ;  but  I  had  no  mind 
to  satisfy  her  curiosity,  though  I  guessed  at  once  what 
the  "shock"  must  have  been,  and  that  Anne  had 
broken  down  after  the  strain  of  that  night  in  the  forest 
near  Petersburg  and  all  that  had  gone  before  it.  She 
had  never  referred  to  this  illness ;  that  was  so  like  her. 
Anything  that  concerned  herself,  personally,  she  al- 
ways regarded  as  insignificant,  but  I  thought  now  that 
it  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  her  worn  appearance. 

"  And  Herr  Pendennis,  where  is  he  ?  "  I  demanded 
next. 


330  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

.  "I  do  not  know;  they  left  together,  when  the  Frau- 
lein  was  at  last  able  to  travel.  Ah,  but  they  are  devoted 
to  each  other,  those  two!  It  is  beautiful  to  see  such 
affection  in  these  days  when  young  people  so  often 
seem  to  despise  their  parents." 

It  was  strange,  very  strange.  The  more  I  tried  to 
puzzle  things  out,  the  more  hopeless  the  tangle  ap- 
peared. Why  had  Pendennis  allowed  her  to  return 
alone  to  Russia,  especially  after  she  had  come  through 
such  a  severe  illness  ?  Of  course  he  might  be  attached 
to  some  other  branch  of  the  League,  but  it  seemed  un- 
likely that  he  would  allow  himself  to  be  separated  from 
her,  when  he  must  have  known  that  she  would  be  sur- 
rounded by  greater  perils  than  ever.  I  decided  that  I 
could  say  nothing  to  this  garrulous  woman  —  kindly 
though  she  was  —  or  to  any  other  stranger.  I  dreaded 
the  time  when  I  would  have  to  tell  Mary  something  at 
least  of  the  truth;  though  even  to  her  I  would  never 
reveal  the  whole  of  it. 

The  manager  came  to  my  room  presently,  bringing 
my  money  and  papers,  and  the  miniature,  which  he  had 
taken  charge  of;  lucky  it  was  for  me  that  I  had  fallen 
into  honest  hands  when  I  reached  Berlin ! 

He  addressed  me  as  "Herr  Gould"  of  course,  and 
was  full  of  curiosity  to  know  how  I  got  through,  and  if 
things  were  as  bad  in  Warsaw  as  the  newspapers  re- 
ported. Berlin  was  full  of  Russian  refugees;  but  he 
had  not  met  one  from  Warsaw. 

"  They  say  the  Governor  will  issue  no  passports  per- 
mitting Poles  to  leave  the  city,"  he  said.  "  But  you  are 
an  American,  which  makes  all  the  difference." 

"  I  guess  so,"  I  responded,  wondering  how  Loris  had 
managed  to  obtain  that  passport,  and  if  it  would  have 


ENGLAND  ONCE  MORE  331 

served  to  get  me  through  if  I  had  started  from  the  city 
instead  of  making  that  long  detour  to  Kutno. 

I  assured  my  host  that  the  state  of  affairs  in  the  city 
of  terror  I  had  left  was  indescribable,  and  I  'd  rather 
not  discuss  it.  He  seemed  quite  disappointed,  and 
with  a  queer  flash  of  memory  I  recalled  how  the  little 
chattering  woman  —  I  forget  her  name  —  had  been 
just  as  disappointed  when  I  did  n't  give  details  about 
Cassavetti's  murder  on  that  Sunday  evening  in  Mary's 
garden.  There  are  a  lot  of  people  in  this  world  who  have 
an  insatiable  appetite  for  horrors,  —  when  they  can 
get  them  at  second-hand. 

"They  say  it's  like  the  days  of  the  terror  in  the 
'sixties'  over  again,  —  tortures  and  shootings  and 
knoutings;  and  that  the  Cossacks  stripped  a  woman 
and  knouted  her  to  death  one  day  last  week;  did  you 
hear  of  that?" 

"I  tell  you  I  don't  mean  to  speak  of  anything  that 
I  've  seen  or  heard !"  I  said,  feeling  that  I  wanted  to 
kick  him.  He  apologized  profusely,  and  then  made 
me  wince  again  by  referring  to  the  miniature,  with 
more  apologies  for  looking  at  it,  when  he  thought  it 
necessary  to  take  possession  of  it. 

"But  we  know  the  so- amiable  Fraulein  and  Herr 
Pendennis  so  well;  they  have  often  stayed  here,"  he 
explained.  "And  it  is  such  a  marvellous  likeness; 
painted  quite  recently  too,  since  the  illness  from  which 
the  Fraulein  has  so  happily  recovered  !" 

I  muttered  something  vague,  and  managed  to  get 
rid  of  him  on  the  plea  that  I  felt  too  bad  to  talk  any 
more,  which  drew  fresh  apologies;  but  when  he  had 
gone  I  examined  the  miniature  more  closely  than  I  'd 
had  an  opportunity  of  doing  since  Loris  gave  it  me. 


332  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

It  was  not  recently  painted,  I  was  quite  sure  of  that, 
and  yet  it  certainly  did  show  her  as  I  had  known  her 
during  these  last  few  weeks,  before  death  printed  that 
terrible  change  on  her  face,  —  and  not  as  she  was  in 
London.  But  that  must  be  my  imagination;  the 
artist  had  caught  her  expression  at  a  moment  when  she 
was  grave  and  sad;  no,  not  exactly  sad,  for  the  lips 
and  eyes  were  smiling,  —  a  faint,  wistful,  inscrutable 
smile  like  the  smile  of  the  Sphinx,  as  it  gazes  across  the 
desert — across  the  world,  into  space,  and  eternity. 

As  I  gazed  on  the  brave  sweet  face,  the  sordid  misery 
that  had  enveloped  my  soul  ever  since  that  awful 
moment  when  I  saw  her  dead  body  borne  past,  in  the 
square,  was  lifted ;  and  I  knew  that  the  last  poignant 
agony  was  the  end  of  a  long  path  of  thorns  that  she  had 
trodden  unflinchingly,  with  royal  courage  and  endur- 
ance for  weary  months  and  years;  that  she  was  at 
peace,  purified  by  her  love,  by  her  suffering,  from  all 
taint  of  earth. 

"Dumb  lies  the  world;  the  wild-yelling  world  with 
all  its  madness  is  behind  thee ! " 

I  started  for  England  next  evening,  and  travelled 
right  through.  I  sent  one  wire  to  Jim  from  Berlin  and 
another  from  Flushing,  —  where  I  found  a  reply  from 
him  waiting  me.  "All  well,  meeting  you." 

That  "all  well"  reassured  me,  for  now  that  I  had 
leisure  to  think,  my  conscience  told  me  how  badly  I  'd 
treated  him  and  Mary.  It 's  true  that  before  I  started 
from  London  with  Mishka  I  wrote  saying  that  I  was 
off  on  secret  service  and  they  must  not  expect  to  hear 
from  me  for  a  time,  but  I  should  be  all  right.  That 
was  to  smooth  Mary  down,  for  I  knew  what  she  was,  — 


ENGLAND   ONCE  MORE  333 

dear  little  soul,  —  and  I  did  n't  want  her  to  be  fretting 
about  me.  If  she  once  got  any  notion  of  my  real  desti- 
nation, she  'd  have  fretted  herself  into  a  fever.  But  if 
she  had  n't  guessed  at  the  truth,  I  might  be  able  to 
evade  telling  her  anything  at  all;  perhaps  I  might 
pitch  a  yarn  about  having  been  to  Tibet,  or  Korea,  for 
she  would  certainly  want  to  know  something  of  the 
reason  for  my  changed  appearance.  I  scarcely  recog- 
nized myself  when  I  looked  at  my  reflection  in  the  bed- 
room mirror  at  Berlin.  A  haggard,  unkempt  ruffian, 
gray- haired,  and  with  hollow  eyes  staring  out  of  a  white 
face,  disfigured  by  a  half -healed  cut  across  the  forehead. 
I  certainly  was  a  miserable  looking  object,  even  when 
I  'd  had  my  hair  cut  and  my  beard  shaved,  since  I  no 
longer  needed  it  as  a  disguise.  Mary  had  always  dis- 
liked that  beard,  but  I  doubted  if  she  'd  know  me,  even 
without  it. 

I  landed  at  Queensboro'  on  a  typical  English  Novem- 
ber afternoon ;  raw  and  dark,  with  a  drizzle  falling  that 
threatened  every  moment  to  thicken  into  a  regular  fog. 
There  were  very  few  passengers,  and  I  thought  at  first  I 
was  going  to  have  the  compartment  to  myself;  but,  at 
the  last  moment,  a  man  got  in  whom  I  recognized  at 
once  as  Lord  Southbourne.  I  had  n't  seen  him  on  the 
boat ;  doubtless  he  'd  secured  a  private  stateroom.  He 
just  glanced  at  me  casually,  —  I  had  my  fur  cap  well 
pulled  down,  —  settled  himself  in  his  corner,  and 
started  reading  a  London  paper,  —  one  of  his  own 
among  them.  He'd  brought  a  sheaf  of  them  in  with  him ; 
though  I  'd  contented  myself  with  The  Courier.  It  was 
pleasant  to  see  the  familiar  rag  once  more.  I  had  n't 
set  eyes  on  a  copy  since  I  left  England. 

I  did  n't  speak  to  Southbourne,  though ;    I  don't 


334  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

quite  know  why,  except  that  I  felt  like  a  kind  of  Rip 
van  Winkle,  though  I  'd  only  been  away  a  little  more 
than  a  couple  of  months.  And  somehow  I  dreaded  that 
lazy  but  penetrating  stare  of  his,  and  the  questions  he 
would  certainly  fire  off  at  me.  So  I  lay  low  and  said 
nothing ;  keeping  the  paper  well  before  my  face,  till  we 
stopped  at  Herne  Hill  for  tickets  to  be  taken.  As  the 
train  started  again,  he  threw  down  his  paper,  and 
moved  opposite  me,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"Hello,  Wynn!"  he  drawled.  "Is  it  you  or  your 
ghost  ?  Did  n't  you  know  me  ?  Or  do  you  mean  to 
cut  me?  Why,  man  alive,  what 's  wrong?"  he  added, 
with  a  quick  change  of  tone.  I  'd  only  heard  him 
speak  like  that  once  before,  —  in  the  magistrate's 
room  at  the  police  court,  after  the  murder  charge  was 
dismissed. 

"  Nothing ;  except  that  we  've  had  a  beastly  crossing," 
I  answered,  with  a  poor  attempt  at  jauntiness. 

"Where  have  you  come  from,  —  Russia?"  he 
demanded. 

I  nodded. 

"H'm!  So  you  went  back,  after  all.  I  thought  as 
much  !  Who  's  had  your  copy  ?" 

"I've  sent  none;  I  went  on  private  business,"  I 
protested  hotly.  It  angered  me  that  he  should  think 
me  capable  of  going  back  on  him. 

"I  ought  n't  to  have  said  that;  I  apologize,"  he  said 
stiffly,  still  staring  at  me  intently.  "  But  —  what  on 
earth  have  you  been  up  to  ?  More  prison  experiences  ? 
Well,  keep  your  own  counsel,  of  course.  I  've  kept  it 
for  you,  —  as  far  as  I  knew  it.  Mrs.  Cayley  believes 
I  've  sent  you  off  to  the  ends  of  the  earth ;  and  I  've 
been  mendaciously  assuring  her  that  you  're  all  right, 


ENGLAND  ONCE  MORE  335 

—  though  Miss  Pendennis  has  had  her  doubts,  and 
nearly  bowled  me  out,  once  or  twice." 

"Miss  —  who?"  I  shouted. 

"  Miss  Pendennis,  of  course.  Did  n't  you  know  she 
was  staying  with  your  cousin  again?  A  queer  coinci- 
dence about  that  portrait !  Hello,  here  we  are  at 
Victoria.  And  there  's  Cayley !" 


CHAPTER    LI 

THE     REAL     ANNE 

IT'S  incredible!"  I  exclaimed. 
"  Well,    it 's    true,   anyhow !  "    Jim   asserted. 
"  And   I   don't   see   myself   where   the   incredibility 
comes  in." 

"  You  say  that  Mr.  Pendennis  wrote  from  Berlin 
not  a  week  after  I  left  England,  and  that  he  and 
Anne  —  Anne  —  are  at  this  moment  staying  with 
you  in  Chelsea?  When  I  've  been  constantly  with 
her,  —  saw  her  murdered  in  the  streets  of  Warsaw !  " 

"  That  must  have  been  the  other  woman,  —  the 
woman  of  the  portrait,  whoever  she  may  be.  No  one 
seems  to  know,  not  even  Pendennis.  We  've  discussed 
it  several  times,  —  not  before  Anne.  We  don't  think 
it  wise  to  remind  her  of  that  Russian  episode;  it 
upsets  her  too  much ;  for  she  's  not  at  all  the  thing 
even  yet,  poor  girl." 

He  seemed  quite  to  have  changed  his  mental  atti- 
tude towards  Anne,  and  spoke  of  her  as  kindly  as 
if  she  had  been  Mary's  sister. 

"  It 's  another  case  of  mistaken  identity  based  on 
an  extraordinary  likeness,"  he  continued.  "  There 
have  been  many  such,  —  more  in  fact  than  in  fiction. 
Look  at  the  Bancrofts  and  their  *  doubles,'  for  in- 
stance, a  pair  of  them,  husband  and  wife,  who  passed 
themselves  off  as  Sir  Squire  and  Lady  Bancroft 


THE    REAL    ANNE  337 

innumerable  times  a  few  years  back,  and  were  never 
discovered.  And  yet,  though  it  mightn't  be  difficult 
for  a  clever  impersonator  to  make  up  like  Bancroft, 
it  seems  incredible  that  he  could  find  a  woman  who 
could  pose  successfully  as  the  incomparable  Marie 
Wilton.  You  should  have  seen  her  in  her  prime,  my 
boy  —  the  most  fascinating  little  creature  imagi- 
nable, and  the  plainest,  if  you  only  looked  at  her 
features!  It  must  have  been  a  jolly  sight  harder 
to  represent  her,  than  if  she  'd  been  a  merely  beau- 
tiful woman,  like  Anne.  She  's  an  uncommon  type 
here  in  England,  but  not  on  the  Continent.  I  don't 
suppose  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  half  a  dozen  who 
would  answer  to  the  same  description,  —  if  one  only 
knew  where  to  look  for  'em." 

"  It  was  n't  the  resemblance  of  a  type,  —  eyes  and 
hair  and  that  sort  of  thing,"  —  I  said  slowly ;  "  the 
voice,  the  manner,  the  soul ;  why  —  she  —  knew  me, 
recognized  me  even  with  my  beard  —  spoke  of 
Mary  —  " 

"  She  must  have  been  an  astonishingly  clever 
woman,  poor  soul!  And  one  who  knew  a  lot  more 
about  Anne  than  Anne  and  her  father  know  of  her. 
Well,  you  '11  soon  be  able  to  exchange  notes  with 
Pendennis  himself,  and  perhaps  you  '11  hit  on  a  solu- 
tion of  the  mystery  between  you.  What's  that?  " 

I  had  pulled  out  the  miniature  and  now  handed 
it  to  him.  He  examined  it  intently  under  the  bright 
light  of  the  little  acetylene  lamp  inside  the  brougham. 

"  This  is  another  portrait  of  her?  You  're  right, 
—  there  's  a  marvellous  likeness.  I  'd  have  sworn  it 
was  Anne,  though  the  hair  is  different  now.  It  was 
cut  short  in  her  illness,  —  Anne's  illness,  I  mean,  of 


338  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

course,  —  and  now  it 's  a  regular  towzle  of  curls. 
Here,  put  it  up.  I  wouldn't  say  anything  about  it 
to  Anne,  if  I  were  you,  —  not  at  present." 

The  carriage  stopped,  and  as  I  stumbled  out  and 
along  the  flagged  way,  the  front  door  was  flung  open, 
and  in  a  blaze  of  light  I  saw  Mary,  and,  a  little  be- 
hind her,  —  Anne  herself. 

I  'm  afraid  I  was  very  rude  to  Mary  in  that  first 
confused  moment  of  meetings  and  greetings.  I  think 
I  gave  her  a  perfunctory  kiss  in  passing,  but  it  was 
Anne  on  whom  my  eyes  were  fixed,  —  Anne  who  — 
wonder  of  wonders  —  was  in  my  arms  the  next  mo- 
ment. What  did  it  matter  to  us  that  there  were 
others  standing  around?  She  was  alive,  and  she 
loved  me  as  I  loved  her;  I  read  that  in  her  eyes  as 
they  met  mine;  and  nothing  else  in  the  world  was 
of  any  consequence. 

"  You  went  back  to  Russia  in  search  of  me !  I  was 
quite  sure  of  it  in  my  mind,  though  Mary  declared 
you  were  off  on  another  special  correspondent  affair 
for  Lord  Southbourne,  and  he  said  the  same ;  he  's 
rather  a  nice  man,  is  n't  he,  and  Lady  Southbourne  's 
a  dear !  But  I  knew  somehow  he  was  n't  speaking 
the  truth.  And  you  've  been  in  the  wars,  you  poor 
boy!  Why,  your  hair  is  as  gray  as  father's;  and 
how  did  you  get  that  wound  on  your  forehead  ? " 

"  I  've  had  some  lively  times  one  way  and  another, 
dear;  but  never  mind  about  that  now,"  I  said.  We 
were  sitting  together  by  the  fire  in  the  drawing- 
room,  after  dinner,  alone,  —  for  Mary  had  effaced 
herself  like  the  considerate  little  woman  she  is ;  prob- 
ably she  had  joined  Jim  and  Pendennis  in  the  smok- 
ing-room, that  was  also  Jim's  sanctum. 


THE    REAL   ANNE  339 

"  Tell  me  about  yourself.  How  did  you  get  to 
Petersburg?  It  was  you?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  I  can't  remember  even  now  how  I  got 
there,"  she  answered,  frowning  at  the  fire,  and  biting 
her  underlip.  A  queer  thrill  ran  through  me  as  I 
watched  her;  she  was  so  like  that  other. 

"  I  got  into  the  train  at  Calais,  and  I  suppose 
I  fell  asleep ;  I  was  very  tired  after  the  dinner  at 
the  Cecil  and  Mrs.  Sutherland's  party.  There  were 
two  other  people  in  the  same  carriage,  —  a  man  and 
a  woman.  That 's  the  last  thing  I  can  recollect 
clearly  until  I  found  myself  again  in  a  railway  car- 
riage. I've  a  confused  notion  of  being  on  board 
ship  in  between;  but  it  was  all  like  a  dream,  until 
I  suddenly  saw  you,  and  called  out  to  you ;  I  was 
in  an  open  carriage  then,  driving  through  a  strange 
city  that  I  know  now  was  Petersburg.  I  was  taken 
to  a  house  where  several  horrid  men  —  quite  supe- 
rior sort  of  men  in  a  way,  but  they  seemed  as  if  they 
hated  me,  and  I  could  n't  think  why  —  asked  me  a 
lot  of  questions.  At  first  they  spoke  in  a  language 
I  did  n't  understand  at  all,  but  afterwards  in  French ; 
and  then  I  found  they  wanted  to  know  about  that 
Mr.  Cassavetti;  they  called  him  by  another  name, 
too  —  " 

"  Selinski,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  that  was  it ;  though  I  have  n't  been  able 
to  remember  it.  They  would  n't  believe  me  when  I 
said  I  'd  only  met  him  quite  casually  at  dinner,  the 
night  before  I  was  kidnapped,  —  for  I  really  was 
kidnapped,  Maurice  —  and  that  I  knew  nothing  what- 
ever about  him.  They  kept  me  in  a  dark  cell  for 
hours,  till  I  was  half -crazy  with  anger  and  terror; 


340  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

and  then  they  brought  me  out,  and  I  saw  you,  and 
father;  and  the  next  thing  I  knew  I  was  in  bed  in 
an  hotel  we  've  often  stayed  at,  in  Berlin.  Father 
tries  to  persuade  me  that  I  imagined  the  whole  thing ; 
but  I  didn't;  now  did  I,  Maurice?  And  what  does 
it  all  mean?  " 

"  It  was  all  a  mistake.  You  were  taken  for  some 
one  else;  some  one  whom  you  resemble  very  closely." 

"  That 's  just  what  I  thought ;  though  father  won't 
believe  it;  or  he  pretends  he  won't;  but  I  am  sure 
he  knows  something  that  he  will  not  tell  me.  But 
there 's  another  thing,  —  that  dreadful  man  Cas- 
savetti.  Perhaps  I  ought  n't  to  call  him  that,  as 
he  's  dead ;  I  only  heard  about  the  murder  a  little 
while  ago,  and  then  almost  by  accident.  Maud  Vere- 
ker  told  me;  do  you  know  her?" 

"  That  frivolous  little  chatterbox ;  yes,  I  've  met 
her,  though  I'd  forgotten  her  name." 

"  She  told  me  all  about  it  one  day.  Mary  and 
Jim  had  never  said  a  word;  they  seemed  to  be  in 
a  conspiracy  of  silence!  But  when  I  heard  it  I  was 
terribly  upset.  Think  of  any  one  suspecting  you 
of  murdering  him,  Maurice,  —  just  because  he  lived 
on  the  floor  above  you,  and  you  happened  to  find 
him.  You  poor  boy,  what  dreadful  troubles  you  have 
been  through ! " 

There  was  an  interlude  here;  we  had  a  good 
many  such  interludes,  but  even  when  my  arm  was 
round  her,  when  my  lips  pressed  hers,  I  could  scarcely 
realize  that  I  was  awake  and  sane. 

"  It  was  j  ust  as  well  they  did  suspect  me,  darling," 
I  said  after  a  while,  "  or  I  most  certainly  should  n't 
have  been  here  now." 


THE   REAL   ANNE  341 

She  nestled  closer  to  me,  with  a  little  sob. 

"  Oh,  Maurice,  Maurice !  I  can't  believe  that 
you  're  safe  here  again,  after  all !  And  I  feel  that 
I  was  to  blame  for  it  all  —  " 

"  You?    Why,  how 's  that,  sweetheart?  " 

"  Because  I  flirted  with  that  Cassavetti  —  at  the 
dinner,  don't  you  remember?  That  seemed  to  be  the 
beginning  of  everything!  I  was  so  cross  with  you, 
and  he  —  he  puzzled  and  interested  me,  though  I 
felt  frightened  just  at  the  last  when  I  gave  him  that 
flower.  Maurice,  did  he  take  me  for  the  other  girl? 
And  was  there  any  meaning  attached  to  the  flower?  " 

"  Yes,  the  flower  was  a  symbol ;  it  meant  a  great 
deal,  —  among  other  things  the  fact  that  you  gave 
it  to  him  made  him  quite  sure  you  were  —  the  per- 
son he  mistook  you  for.  You  are  marvellously  like 
her  —  " 

"  Then  you  —  you  have  met  her  also  ?  Who  is 
she?  Where  is  she?  " 

"  She  is  dead ;  and  I  don't  know  for  certain  who 
she  was ;  until  Jim  met  me  to-night  I  believed  that 
she  was  —  you ! " 

"  Were  we  so  like  as  that  ?  "  she  breathed.  "  Why, 
she  might  have  been  my  sister,  but  I  never  had  one; 
my  mother  died  when  I  was  born,  you  know!  Tell 
me  about  her,  Maurice." 

"  I  can't,  dear ;  except  that  she  was  as  brave  as 
she  was  beautiful ;  and  her  life  was  one  long  tragedy. 
But  I  '11  show  you  her  portrait." 

She  gave  a  little  cry  of  astonishment  as  I  handed 
her  the  miniature ;  the  diamond  setting  flashed  under 
the  softly  shaded  electric  light. 

"  Oh,   how   lovely !     But  —  why,   she  's   far   more 


342  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

beautiful  than  I  am,  or  ever  shall  be!  Did  she  give 
you  this,  Maurice?  " 

There  was  a  queer  note  in  her  voice  as  she  put  the 
question ;  it  sounded  almost  like  a  touch  of  j  ealousy. 

"  N.o ;  her  husband  gave  it  to  me,  —  after  she 
died,"  I  said  sadly. 

"  Her  husband !  She  was  married,  then.  Who  was 
he?" 

"  A  man  worthy  of  her ;  but  I  'd  rather  not 
talk  about  them,  —  not  just  at  present;  it's  too 
painful." 

"  Oh,  Maurice,  I  'm  so  sorry,"  she  murmured  in 
swift  penitence;  and  to  my  great  relief  she  ques- 
tioned me  no  more  for  that  evening. 

But  I  told  the  whole  story,  so  far  as  I  knew  it,  to 
Pendennis  and  Jim,  after  the  rest  of  the  household 
had  gone  to  bed;  and  we  sat  till  the  small  hours, 
comparing  notes  and  discussing  the  whole  matter, 
which  still  presented  many  perplexing  points. 

I  omitted  nothing ;  I  said  how  I  had  seen  Anne  — 
as  I  believed  then  and  until  this  day  —  in  that  boat 
on  the  Thames  ;  how  I  had  suspected,  —  felt  certain, 
—  that  she  had  been  to  Cassavetti's  rooms  that  night, 
a*nd  was  cognizant  of  his  murder ;  what  I  had  learned 
from  Mr.  Treherne,  down  in  Cornwall,  and  every- 
thing of  importance  that  had  happened  since. 

Jim  punctuated  the  story  with  exclamations  and 
comments,  but  Anthony  Pendennis  listened  almost 
in  silence,  though  when  I  came  to  the  part  about  the 
mad  woman  from  Siberia,  who  had  died  at  the 
hunting-lodge,  and  who  was  spoken  of  as  the  Countess 
Vassilitzi,  he  started,  and  made  a  queer  sound,  like 
a  groan,  though  he  signed  to  me  to  continue.  I  was 


THE  REAL  ANNE  343 

glad  afterwards  that  I  had  n't  described  what  she 
looked  like.  He  was  a  grave,  stern  man,  wonderfully 
self-possessed. 

"  It  is  a  strange  story,"  he  said,  when  I  had  fin- 
ished. "  A  mysterious  one." 

"  Do  you  hold  the  key  to  the  mystery  ?  "  I  asked 
him  pointblank. 

"  No,  though  I  can  shed  a  little  light  on  it ;  a  very 
little,  and  I  fear  even  that  will  only  make  the  rest 
more  obscure.  But  it  is  only  right  that  I  should  give 
you  confidence  for  confidence,  Mr.  Wynn ;  since  you 
have  suffered  so  much  through  your  love  for  my 
daughter,  —  and  through  the  machinations  of  this 
unhappy  woman  who  certainly  impersonated  her,  — 
for  her  own  purposes." 

I  winced  at  that.  Although  I  knew  now  that  "  the 
unhappy  woman  "  was  not  she  whom  I  loved,  it  hurt 
me  to  hear  her  spoken  of  in  that  stern,  condemnatory 
way ;  but  I  let  it  pass.  I  wanted  to  hear  his  version. 


CHAPTER  LH 

THE    WHOLE    TRUTH 

SHE  must  have  been  one  of  the  Vassilitzis,  and 
therefore  Anne's  near  kinswoman,"  Pendennis 
said  slowly.  "  You  say  she  was  often  spoken  of  as 
Anna  Petrovna?  That  explains  nothing,  for  Pe- 
trovna  is  of  course  a  very  common  family  name  in 
Russia.  '  The  daughter  of  Peter '  it  really  means, 
and  it  is  often  used  as  a  familiar  form  of  address, 
just  as  in  Scotland  a  married  woman  is  often  spoken 
of  by  her  friends  by  her  maiden  name.  My  wife  was 
called  Anna  Petrovna.  But  you  say  this  unhappy 
woman's  name  was  given  as  *  Vassilitzi  Pendennis'? 
That  I  cannot  understand!  It  is  impossible  that 
she  could  be  my  daughter;  that  the  mad  lady  from 
Siberia  could  have  been  my  wife,  —  and  yet  —  my 
God  —  if  that  should  be  true,  after  all! 

"  They  did  send  me  word,  and  I  believed  it  at  the 
moment,  though  later  I  thought  it  was  a  trick  to 
get  me  —  and  Anne  —  into  their  power,  —  part  of 
a  long-delayed  scheme  of  revenge." 

His  face  was  white  as  death,  with  little  beads  of 
sweat  on  the  forehead,  and  his  hands  shook  slightly; 
though  he  showed  no  other  signs  of  emotion. 

"  Treherne  told  you  the  truth  about  my  marriage, 
Mr.  Wynn,"  he  continued,  raising  his  voice  a  little, 
and  looking  at  me  with  stern,  troubled  eyes.  "  Until 
you  spoke  of  him  I  had  almost  forgotten  his  exist- 


THE  WHOLE  TRUTH  345 

ence!  But  he  did  not  foiow  quite  everything.  The 
one  point  on  which  I  and  my  dear  wife  were  at  vari- 
ance was  her  connection  with  this  fatal  League.  Yes, 
it  was  in  existence  then ;  and  I  was  —  I  suppose  I 
still  am,  in  a  way  —  a  member  of  it ;  though  I  only 
became  one  in  order  that  I  might  protect  my  wife 
as  far  as  possible.  After  she  died  and  I  was  banished 
from  Russia,  I  severed  myself  from  it  for  many  years, 
until  a  few  months  ago,  when  I  received  a  communi- 
cation to  the  effect  that  my  wife  was  still  alive ;  that 
she  had  been  released  and  restored  to  her  relatives, 

—  to  her  brother  Stepan,  I  supposed.     He  had  al- 
ways  hated  me,  but  he  loved  her  well,  though  he 
managed  to  make  his  escape  at  the  time  she  was 
taken." 

"  But  Stepan  Vassilitzi  is  a  young  man,  —  younger 
than  I  am,"  I  interrupted. 

"  He  is  the  son ;  the  father  died  some  years  back, 
though  I  only  learned  that  after  I  returned  to  Russia. 
I  started  at  once ;  that  was  how  you  missed  me  when 
you  came  to  Berlin.  I  sent  first  to  the  old  chateau 
near  Warsaw,  which  had  been  the  principal  residence 
of  the  Vassilitzis.  But  I  found  it  in  possession  of 
strangers ;  it  had  been  confiscated  in  '81,  and  noth- 
ing was  known  of  the  old  family  beyond  the  name.  I 
wasted  several  days  in  futile  inquiries  and  then  went 
on  to  Petersburg,  where  I  got  in  communication  with 
some  of  the  League.  I  had  to  execute  the  utmost 
caution,  as  you  will  understand,  but  I  found  out  that 
a  meeting  was  to  be  held  at  a  place  I  knew  of  old, 

—  the  ruined  chapel,  —  and  that  Anna  Petrovna  was 
to  be  there,  —  my  wife,  as  I  supposed. 

"  The  rest  of  that  episode  you  know.    The  moment 


346  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

I  saw  Anne  brought  out  I  realized,  or  thought  I  did, 
for  I  am  not  so  sure  now,  that  it  was  a  trap.  That 
big,  rough-looking  man  who  carried  Anne  off  —  " 

"  He  was  the  Grand  Duke  Loris." 

"  So  I  guessed  when  you  spoke  of  him  just  now; 
and  at  the  time  I  knew,  of  course,  that  he  was  not 
what  he  appeared,  for  he  did  n't  act  up  to  his 
disguise." 

"  He  did  when  it  was  necessary ! "  I  said  emphati- 
cally, remembering  how  he  had  slanged  the  hotel  ser- 
vant that  evening  at  Petersburg. 

"  Well,  he  said  enough  to  convince  me  that  I  was 
right,  though  why  he  should  trouble  himself  on  our 
behalf  I  could  n't  imagine. 

"  We  had  n't  gone  far  when  we  heard  firing,  and 
halted  to  listen.  We  held  a  hurried  consultation, 
and  I  told  him  briefly  who  we  were.  He  seemed  ut- 
terly astounded ;  and  now  I  understand  why,  —  he 
evidently  had  thought  Anne  was  that  other.  He 
decided  that  we  should  be  safer  if  we  remained  in  the 
woods  till  all  was  quiet,  and  then  make  our  way  to 
Petersburg  and  claim  protection  at  the  English 
Embassy. 

"  We  went  on  again ;  Anne  was  still  insensible, 
and  he  insisted  on  carrying  her,  —  till  we  came  to 
a  charcoal  burner's  hut.  He  told  us  to  stay  there 
till  a  messenger  came  who  would  guide  us  to  the 
road,  where  a  carriage  would  be  in  waiting  to  take 
us  to  Petersburg. 

"  He  left  us  then,  and  I  have  never  seen  him  since. 
But  he  kept  his  word,  though  it  was  nearly  a  week 
before  the  messenger  came,  —  a  big,  surly  man,  very 
lame,  as  the  result  of  a  recent  accident,  I  think." 


THE, WHOLE  TRUTH  347 

"  Mishka !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  He  would  not  tell  his  name,  and  said  very  little 
one  way  or  the  other,  but  he  took  us  to  the  carriage, 
and  we  reached  the  city  without  hindrance.  Anne 
was  in  a  dazed  condition  the  whole  time,  —  partly, 
no  doubt,  as  a  result  of  the  drugs  which  those  scoun- 
drels who  kidnapped  her  and  brought  her  to  Russia 
had  administered.  She  knew  me,  but  everything  else 
was  almost  a  blank  to  her,  as  it  still  is.  She  has 
only  a  faint  recollection  of  the  whole  affair. 

"  I  secured  a  passport  for  her  and  we  started  at 
once,  though  she  was  n't  fit  to  travel,  and  the  j  our- 
ney  nearly  killed  her.  We  ought  to  have  stopped 
as  soon  as  we  were  over  the  frontier,  but  I  wanted 
to  get  as  far  away  from  Russia  as  possible.  She 
just  held  out  till  we  got  to  Berlin,  and  then  broke 
down  altogether  —  my  poor  child ! 

"  I  ought  to  have  written  to  Mrs.  Cayley,  I  know ; 
but  I  never  gave  a  thought  to  it  till  Anne  began  to 
recover  —  " 

"  That 's  all  right ;  Mary  understood,  and  she  's 
forgiven  the  omission  long  ago,"  Jim.  interposed. 
"  But,  I  say,  Pendennis,  I  was  right,  after  all !  I 
always  stuck  out  that  it  was  a  case  of  mistaken 
identity,  though  you  would  n't  believe  me ! " 

Pendennis  nodded. 

"  The  woman  from  Siberia  —  what  was  she  like?  " 
he  demanded,  turning  again  to  me. 

"  I  can't  say.  I  only  saw  her  from  a  distance, 
and  for  a  minute  or  so,"  I  answered  evasively.  "  She 
was  tall  and  white-haired." 

I  was  certain  in  my  own  mind  that  she  was  his 
wife,  for  I  'd  heard  the  words  she  called  out,  —  his 


348  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

name,  "  An-thony,"  not  the  French  "  Antoine,"  but 
as  a  foreigner  would  pronounce  the  English  word, 
—  but  I  should  only  add  to  his  distress  if  I  told 
him  that. 

"  Well,  it  remains  a  mystery ;  and  one  that  I  sup- 
pose we  shall  never  unravel,"  he  said  heavily,  at  last. 

But  it  was  unravelled  for  us,  and  that  before  many 
weeks  had  passed. 

One  dark  afternoon  just  before  Christmas  I 
dropped  in  for  a  few  minutes,  as  I  generally  con- 
trived to  do  before  going  down  to  the  office;  for 
I  was  on  the  Courier  again  temporarily. 

Anne  and  her  father  were  still  the  Cayleys'  guests ; 
for  Mary  would  n't  hear  of  their  going  to  an  hotel, 
and  they  had  only  just  found  a  flat  near  at  hand 
to  suit  them.  Having  at  last  returned  to  England, 
Anthony  Pendennis  had  decided  to  remain.  He  'd 
had  enough,  at  last,  of  wandering  around  the 
Continent ! 

Mary  had  other  callers  in  the  drawing-room,  so 
I  turned  into  Jim's  study,  where  Anne  joined  me  in 
a  minute  or  so,  —  Anne,  who,  in  a  few  short  months, 
would  be  my  wife. 

The  front-door  bell  rang,  and  voices  sounded  in 
the  lobby ;  but  though  I  heard,  I  did  n't  heed  them, 
until  Anne  held  up  her  hand. 

"  Hush!    Who  is  Marshall  talking  to?  " 

The  prim  maid  was  speaking  in  an  unusually  loud 
voice;  shouting,  in  fact,  as  English  folk  always  do 
when  they  're  addressing  a  foreigner,  —  as  if  that 
would  make  them  more  intelligible. 

A  moment  later  she  came  in,  looking  flustered,  and 
closed  the  door. 


THE  WHOLE  TRUTH  349 

*'  There  's  a  foreign  man  outside,  sir,  and  I  think 
he  's  asking  for  you ;  but  I  can't  make  out  half  he 
says,  —  not  even  his  name,  though  it  sounds  like 
Miskyploff!" 

"  Mishka !  "  I  shouted,  making  for  the  door. 

Mishka  it  was,  grim,  gaunt,  and  travel-stained; 
and  as  he  gripped  my  hands  I  knew,  without  a  word 
spoken,  that  Loris  was  dead. 

I  led  him  in,  and  he  started  slightly  when  he  saw 
Anne,  who  stared  at  him  with  a  queer  expression  of 
half- recognition.  She  knew  who  he  was,  for  I  had 
told  her  a  good  deal  about  him;  though  we  had 
all  agreed  it  was  quite  unnecessary  that  she  should 
know  the  whole  story  of  my  experiences  in  Russia; 
there  were  a  lot  of  details  I  'd  never  given  even  to 
her  father  and  Jim. 

She  recovered  herself  almost  instantly,  and  held 
out  her  hand  to  him  with  a  gracious  smile,  saying  in 
German : 

"  Welcome  to  England,  Herr  Pavloff !  I  have 
heard  much  of  you,  and  have  much  to  thank  you 
for." 

He  bowed  clumsily  over  the  hand,  with  the  defer- 
ence due  to  a  princess,  and  watched  her  as  she 
passed  out  of  the  room,  his  rugged  face  strangely 
softened. 

"  So,  she  is  safe,  after  all,"  he  said  when  the  door 
was  closed.  "  We  all  hoped  so,  but  we  did  not  know ; 
that  is  one  reason  why  you  were  never  told.  For  if 
she  were  dead  what  need  to  tell  you ;  and  also  —  but 
I  will  come  to  that  later.  There  is  a  marvellous  re- 
semblance; but  it  is  often  so  with  twins." 

"Twins!"  I  ejaculated;    and  yet  I   think   I'd 


350  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

known  it,  at  the  back  of  my  mind,  ever  since  the  night 
of  my  return  to  England ;  only  Pendennis  had  spoken 
so  decidedly  about  his  only  child.  "  Why,  Herr  Pen- 
dennis himself  does  n't  know  that !  " 

"  No,  it  was  kept  from  him,  —  from  the  first.  It 
is  all  old  history  now,  though  I  learned  it  within  these 
last  few  months,  chiefly  from  Natalya.  It  was  her 
doing,  —  hers,  and  the  old  Count's,  Stepan's  father. 
The  old  Count  had  always  resented  the  marriage ;  he 
hated  Herr  Pendennis,  his  brother-in-law,  as  much 
as  he  loved  his  sister.  Herr  Pendennis  was  away  in 
England  when  the  children  were  born;  and  that  in- 
creased the  Count's  bitterness  against  him.  He 
thought  he  should  have  hastened  back,  —  as  without 
doubt  he  should  have  done!  It  was  but  a  few  days 
later  that  the  young  mother  was  arrested,  and,  ill 
as  she  was,  they  took  her  away  to  prison  in  a  litter. 
The  Count  got  timely  warning,  and  made  his  escape. 
It  was  impossible  for  his  sister  to  accompany  him; 
also  he  did  not  believe  they  would  arrest  her,  in  her 
condition,  and  as  she  was  the  wife  of  an  Englishman. 
He  should  have  known  that  Russians  are  without  pity 
or  mercy ! " 

"  But  the  child !  He  could  not  take  a  week-old 
baby  with  him,  if  he  had  to  fly  for  his  life." 

"  No,  Natalya  did  that.  She  escaped  to  the 
Ghetto  and  took  the  baby  with  her,  —  and  young 
Stepan,  who  was  then  a  lad  of  six  years.  There  was 
great  confusion  at  the  chateau,  and  the  few  who  knew 
that  two  children  were  born  doubtless  believed  one 
had  died. 

"  For  the  rest,  Natalya  remained  in  the  Ghetto  for 
some  three  years,  and  then  rejoined  the  Count  at  the 


THE  WHOLE  TRUTH  351 

old  house  near  Ziscky,  —  the  hunting  lodge.  It  was 
all  he  had  left;  though  he  had  patched  up  a  peace 
with  the  Government.  He  had  friends  at  Court  in 
those  days. 

"  You  know  what  the  child  became.  He  trained  her 
deliberately  to  that  end  as  long  as  he  lived;  taught 
her  also  that  her  father  deserted  her  and  her  mother 
in  the  hour  of  need,  —  left  them  to  their  fate.  It  was 
a  cruel  revenge  to  take." 

"  It  was !  "  I  said  emphatically.  "  But  when  did 
she  learn  she  had  a  sister?  " 

"  That  I  do  not  know.  I  think  it  was  not  long 
before  she  came  to  England  last;  she  had  often  been 
here  before,  for  brief  visits  only.  She  came  on  the 
yacht  then,  with  my  master ;  it  was  their  honeymoon, 
and  we  had  been  cruising  for  some  weeks,  —  the  only 
peaceful  time  she  had  ever  had  in  her  life.  He  wished 
her  never  to  return  to  Russia;  to  go  with  him  to 
South  America,  or  live  in  England.  But  she  would 
not;  she  loved  him,  yes,  but  she  loved  the  Cause 
more ;  it  was  her  very  life,  her  soul ! 

"  The  yacht  lay  off  Greenwich  for  the  night ;  she 
meant  to  land  next  day,  and  come  up  to  see  Selinski. 
She  had  never  happened  to  meet  him,  though  he  was 
one  of  the  Five." 

"  Selinski !  Cassavetti !  Mishka,  it  was  not  she 
who  murdered  him !  " 

"  No,  it  was  Stepan  Vassilitzi  who  killed  him,  and 
he  deserved  it,  the  hound !  I  had  somewhat  to  do  with 
it  also;  for  I  had  come  to  London  in  advance,  and 
was  to  rej  oin  the  yacht  that  night.  Near  the  bridge 
at  Westminster  whom  should  I  meet  but  Yossof,  whom 
I  thought  to  be  in  Russia ;  and  he  told  me  that  which 


352  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

made  me  bundle  him  into  a  cab  and  drive  straight  to 
Greenwich. 

"  The  Countess  Anna  —  she  was  Grand  Duchess 
then,  though  we  never  addressed  her  so  —  made  her 
plan  speedily,  as  she  ever  did.  She  slipped  away,  with 
only  her  cousin  Stepan  and  I.  My  master  did  not 
know.  He  thought  she  was  in  her  cabin  after 
dinner. 

"  We  rowed  swiftly  up  the  river,  —  the  tide  was 
near  flood,  —  and  I  waited  in  the  boat  while  they 
went  to  Selinski's;  Yossof  had  given  them  the  key. 
They  found  his  paper,  with  all  the  evidences  of  his 
treachery  to  the  League  and  to  her.  Selinski  came 
in  at  the  moment  when  their  task  was  finished,  and 
Stepan  stabbed  him  to  the  heart.  It  was  not  her 
wish ;  she  would  have  spared  him,  vile  though  he  was ! 
Well,  it  is  all  one  now.  They  are  all  gone;  she  and 
Stepan,  —  and  my  master  —  " 

"He  is  dead,  then?" 

"  Should  I  be  here  if  he  were  living?  No,  they  did 
not  kill  him.  I  think  he  really  died  when  she  did,  — 
that  his  soul  passed,  as  it  were,  with  hers ;  though  he 
made  no  sign,  as  you  know.  I  found  him,  —  it  is 
more  than  a  week  since,  —  in  the  early  morning, 
sitting  at  the  table  where  she  used  to  write,  his 
head  on  his  arms,  —  so.  He  was  dead  and  cold,  — 
and  I  thanked  God  for  it.  There  was  a  smile  on  his 
face  —  " 

His  deep  voice  broke  for  the  first  time,  and  he  sat 
silent  for  a  space,  —  and  I  did. 

"  And  so,  —  I  came  away,"  he  resumed  presently. 
"  I  have  come  to  you,  because  he  loved  you.  It  was 
not  his  wish,  but  hers,  that  you  should  be  deceived, 


THE  WHOLE  TRUTH  353 

made  use  of.  I  think  she  felt  it  as  a  kind  of  justice 
that  she  should  press  you  into  the  service  of  the 
Cause,  —  as  she  meant  to  do  from  the  moment  she 
heard  of  you.  And  it  was  quite  easy,  since  you  never 
suspected  that  she  was  not  the  Fraulein  you  knew, 
and  loved  —  hein?  She  herself,  too,  had  borne  the 
burden  so  long,  had  toiled,  and  schemed,  and  suffered 
for  the  Cause;  while  this  sister  had  always  been 
shielded ;  knew  nothing,  cared  nothing  for  the  Cause, 

—  though,    indirectly,    she    had    suffered    somewhat 
through  that  mistake  on  the  part  of  Selinski's  accom- 
plices.    Therefore  this  sister  should  give  her  lover 
to  the  Cause;    that  was  the  thought  in  her  mind,  I 
am  sure.    She  was  wrong ;  but  we  must  not  j  udge  her 
too  harshly,  my  friend !  " 

"  God  forbid!  "  I  said  huskily. 

•  •••••••• 

All  that  was  over  a  year  ago,  and  now,  my  task 
done,  I  sit  at  my  writing-table  by  a  western  window 
and  watch  the  sun,  a  clear  red  ball,  sink  into  the 
Atlantic.  We  are  at  Pencarrow,  for  Anthony  Pen- 
dennis  has  at  last  returned  to  his  own  house.  He  is 
my  father-in-law  now,  for  Anne  and  I  were  married 
in  the  spring,  and  returned  after  a  long  honeymoon 
to  Pencarrow.  We  found  Mishka  settled  on  a  farm 
near,  as  much  at  home  there  as  if  he  had  lived  in  Eng- 
land all  his  life.  He  speaks  English  quite  creditably, 

—  with  a  Cornish  accent,  —  and  I  hear  that  it  won't 
be  long  before  the  farm  has   a  mistress,  a  plump, 
bright-eyed  widow  who  is  going  to  change  her  pres- 
ent name  of  Stiddyford  for  that  of  Pavloff. 

We  are  quite  a  family  party  just  now,  for  Jim  and 
Mary  Cayley  and  the  baby,  —  a  smart  little  chap ; 

23 


354  THE  RED  SYMBOL 

I  'm  his  godfather,  —  have  come  down  to  spend 
Easter;  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Treherne  will  drive  over 
from  Morwen  vicarage,  for  Mary's  matchmaking  in 
that  direction  panned  out  exactly  as  she  wished. 

All  is  well  with  us,  —  pleasant  and  peaceful,  and 
homelike,  —  and  yet  — 

I  look  at  a  miniature  that  lies  on  the  table  before 
me,  and  my  mind  drifts  back  to  the  unforgettable 
past.  I  am  far  away  from  Pencarrow,  when  —  some 
one  comes  behind  my  chair;  a  pair  of  soft  hands  are 
laid  over  my  eyes. 

"Dreaming  or  working,  —  which?"  laughs  Anne. 

I  take  the  hands  in  mine,  and  draw  her  down  till 
she  has  her  chin  on  my  shoulder,  her  soft  cheek 
against  my  face. 

The  dusk  is  falling,  but  through  it  she  sees  the 
glint  of  the  diamonds  on  the  table,  —  and  pulls  her 
hands  away. 

"  You  have  been  thinking  of  those  dreadful  days 
in  Russia  again ! "  she  says  reproachfully,  with  a 
queer  little  catch  in  her  voice.  "  Why  don't  you  for- 
get them  altogether,  Maurice?  Let  me  put  this  in 
the  drawer.  I  hate  to  look  at  it,  —  to  see  you  looking 
at  it!" 

She  picks  up  the  miniature,  gently  enough,  slips 
it  into  a  drawer,  and  turns  the  key. 

"I  —  I  know  it 's  horrid  of  me,  darling,  but  I 
can't  help  it,"  she  whispers,  kneeling  beside  me,  her 
fair  face  upturned,  —  a  face  crowned  once  more  with 
a  wealth  of  bright  hair,  which  she  dresses  in  a  differ- 
ent way  now,  and  I  'm  glad  of  that.  It  makes  her 
look  less  like  her  dead  sister. 

"  I  know  how  —  she  —  suffered,  and  —  and  I  'm 


THE  WHOLE  TRUTH  355 

not  bitter  against  her,  really,"  she  continues  rapidly. 
"  But  when  I  think  of  all  we  had  to  suffer  because  of 
her,  I  —  I  can't  quite  forgive  her,  or  —  or  forget 
that  you  loved  her  once;  though  you  thought  you 
were  loving  me  all  the  time !  " 

"  I  did  love  you  all  the  time,  sweetheart,"  I  assure 
her,  and  that  is  true;  but  it  is  true  also  that  I  still 
love  that  dead  woman  as  I  loved  her  in  life;  not  as 
I  love  Anne,  my  wife,  but  as  the  page  loved  the  queen. 

I  shall  never  tell  that  to  Anne,  though.  She  would 
not  understand. 


THE    END 


Mr.  Oppenheim  s  Latest  Novel 


THE  ILLUSTBIOUS 
PRINCE 


By  E.  PHILLIPS  OPPENHEIM 

Illustrated  by  Will  Foster.        Cloth.        $1.50 


Mr.  Oppenheim's  new  story  is  a  narrative  of  mystery 
and  international  intrigue  that  carries  the  reader  breath- 
less from  page  to  page.  It  is  the  tale  of  the  secret  and 
world-startling  methods  employed  by  the  Emperor  of 
Japan  through  Prince  Maiyo,  his  close  kinsman,  to  ascer- 
tain the  real  reasons  for  the  around-the- world  cruise  of  the 
American  fleet.  The  American  Ambassador  in  London 
and  the  Duke  of  Denvenham,  an  influential  Englishman, 
work  hand  in  hand  to  circumvent  the  Oriental  plot,  which 
proceeds  mysteriously  to  the  last  page.  From  the  time 
when  Mr.  Hamilton  Fynes  steps  from  the  Lusitania  into  a 
special  tug,  in  his  mad  rush  towards  London,  to  the  very 
end,  the  reader  is  carried  from  deep  mystery  to  tense 
situations,  until  finally  the  explanation  is  reached  in  a 
most  unexpected  and  unusual  climax. 

No  man  of  this  generation  has  so  much  facility  of  ex- 
pression, so  many  technical  resources,  or  so  fine  a  power 
of  narration  as  Mr.  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim.  —  Philadelphia 
Inquirer. 

Mr.  Oppenheim  is  a  past  master  of  the  art  of  construct- 
ing ingenious  plots  and  weaving  them  around  attractive 
characters.  —  London  Morning  Post. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


PASSERS-BY 


By  ANTHONY  PARTRIDGE 

Author  of 

"The  Kingdom  of  Earth,"  "The  Distributors,"  etc. 
Illustrated.         Cloth,  $1.50 


Has  the  merit  of  engaging  the  reader's  attention  at  once 
and  holding  it  to  the  end.  —  New  York  Sun. 

It  is  exciting,  is  plausibly  and  cleverly  written,  and  is 
not  devoid  of  a  love  motive.  —  Chicago  Examiner. 

It  can  be  heartily  recommended  to  those  who  enjoy  a 
novel  with  a  good  plot,  entertaining  characters,  and  one 
which  is  carefully  written.  —  Chicago  Tribune. 

One  of  the  most  fascinating  mystery  stories  of  recent 
years,  a  tale  that  catches  the  attention  at  the  beginning 
and  tightens  the  grip  of  its  hold  with  the  turn  of  its 
pages. — Boston  Globe. 

A  mysterious  story  in  which  nearly  all  the  personages 
are  as  much  puzzled  as  the  reader  and  a  detective  en- 
counters a  unique  surprise.  Originality  is  the  most  striking 
characteristic  of  the  personages.  —  New  York  Times. 

The  first  chapter  compels  the  absorbed  interest  of  the 
reader  and  lays  the  groundwork  for  a  thrilling  tale  in 
which  mystery  follows  upon  mystery  through  a  series  of 
dramatic  situations  and  surprises.  —  Philadelphia  Press, 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


By  the  Author  of  "Aunt  Jane  of  Kentucky  " 


THE 
LAM)  OF  LONG  AGO 


By  ELIZA   CALVERT  HALL 

Illustrated  by  G.  Patrick  Nelson  and  Beulah  Strong 
12mo.     Cloth.     $1.50 


The  book  is  an  inspiration.  —  Boston  Globe. 
"Without  qualification  one  of  the  worthiest  publications 
of  the  year. — Pittsburg  Post. 

Aunt  Jane  has  become  a  real  personage  in  American 
literature.  —  Hartford  Courant. 

A  philosophy  sweet  and  wholesome  flows  from  the  lips 
of  "Aunt  Jane." —  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

The  sweetness  and  sincerity  of  Aunt  Jane's  recollec- 
tions have  the  same  unfailing  charm  found  in  "  Cranford." 
— Philadelphia  Press. 

To  a  greater  degree  than  her  previous  work  it  touches 
the  heart  by  its  wholesome,  quaint  human  appeal.  — 
Boston  Transcript. 

The  stories  are  prose  idyls ;  the  illuminations  of  a  lovely 
spirit  shine  upon  them,  and  their  literary  quality  is  as 
rare  as  beautiful. — Baltimore  Sun. 

MARGARET  E.  SANGSTER  says :  "  It  is  not  often  that  an 
author  competes  with  herself,  but  Eliza  Calvert  Hall  has 
done  so  successfully,  for  her  second  volume  centred  about 
Aunt  Jane  is  more  fascinating  than  her  first." 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


"  A  howling  success  " 


AN  AMERICAN  BABY 
ABROAD 


By  MRS.  CHARLES   N.   CREWDSON 

Illustrations  by  R.  F.  Outcault  and  Modest  Stein 
12mo.     Cloth.    $1.50 


When  the  American  baby's  mother  hurries  off  from 
London  to  Egypt,  where  her  husband  is  ill  with  fever, 
the  baby,  in  company  with  its  colored  nurse  and  a  friend 
of  its  mother's,  follows  more  leisurely.  The  trio  stop 
at  Oberammergau  to  see  the  Passion  Play,  in  Rome  to 
witness  a  special  mass  conducted  by  Pope  Leo,  —  in  a 
word,  do  more  or  less  sightseeing,  until  they  finally 
reach  Cairo,  where  much  more  exciting  events  befall 
them.  The  description  of  the  places  they  visit  is  en- 
hanced by  a  pleasant  vein  of  humor,  and  an  attractive 
love  episode  sustains  the  interest.  It  is  an  extremely 
entertaining  story,  light  and  vivacious,  with  brisk  dia- 
logue and  diverting  situations — just  the  book  for  summer 
reading. 

A  series  of  characteristic  pictures,  by  the  well-known 
artist,  Mr.  R.  F.  Outcault,  and  Modest  Stein  gives  addi- 
tional charm  to  the  volume. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


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